Out Of Hell
by Belicia Zarita
Summary: Part 2/3 of the "Mind Tricks" series. Just when Rey has given up hope, there's an unexpected rescue...but can he and his fellow superstars manage to truly escape and defeat the clutches of an unknown evil? Also w/Batista, Morrison, Beth, Chavo, & more.
1. Chapter 1

The sound of a door opening.

Rey blinked slightly from where he was, opening his eyes a little blearily. The white ceiling was still above him, the faint smell of antiseptic was still in the air, he was covered by a thin, somewhat rough blanket. He sat up slowly, looking around, and saw that he was in a hospital room.

No, not just a hospital room....THE hospital room. He was still here.

Rey sat in confusion, trying to think back quickly. He'd seen Hell, he'd been tossed back and forth from here by Kane, hurt and accused of all sorts of evil chicanery. Dave had finally left him and he'd waited for sleep to come because he'd known that whenever he'd fallen asleep here, he'd woken up down in the dark, horrible basement, with Kane, who had promised to torture and torment him for all eternity.

But for the first time, he'd woken up from going to sleep, and he was still here.

But someone was coming in.

The door was open, and as Rey glanced over, all his mental processings having completed in a second, he saw two people in the gray uniforms he recognized as belonging to employees of this hospital...so they said they were, anyway...and pulling a wheelchair along with them. He didn't recognize either of them, not as nurses or as the guards he'd seen earlier. One of them, a giant man who passingly resembled Mark Henry with a buzzcut, came over to Rey and took hold of his arm.

"All right, c'mon, get inna chair..." the man groused, tugging him off the bed and guiding him a little roughly to sit in the wheelchair, as the other, a large woman with chin-length brown hair, leaned down and fastened the seatbelt almost too tight, in a sort of careless pull.

"Wha...what's going on?" Rey murmured, looking around as the brown-haired woman turned and started pushing him towards the door. "I don't..."

"Shaddup," the Henry look-alike grumbled, reaching over and starting to strip the bed of blankets and sheets. "Need ta get everything all cleaned up in here 'fore the next one gets in."

"Yeah, yeah..." the woman muttered in boredom, knocking on the door and stepping back enough for it to be opened, then moving on through, gesturing to an apparent janitor who was standing by with a cart, mop, and bucket, wearing the same gray uniform. "Marco can handle it, this one didn't make too much of a mess. Come help me get him set in."

The first man rolled his eyes, but tossed the sheets back onto the bed and started after them, walking beside the woman as she pushed Rey down the hallway. "T'ain't like he's ever been any trouble."

"I know he hasn't but we're supposed to have the door covered just in case. That Daniel fellow from last night tried to bolt and it took three guards to get him back in and taken care of."

"What's going on...?" Rey asked softly, looking back towards them. "Where are we going?"

"Session's over, ya gettin' moved," the man answered absently, working on a clipboard he had procured from somewhere.

"Brad, why do you even bother talking to them? It's not like it's gonna ever mean anything," the woman asked, turning the opposite direction from the elevators as they reached the center of the hallway plus sign. Rey could see an open door at the end of the hallway, with a strange glow coming from it, a vaguely reddish light.

"Why t'fuck not? Ain't gonna remember none'a it anyways. Might'a well keep my own self occupieds."

Rey glanced back at the two of them, then back towards the room as they approached. He winced a little at the red light. So that was what this was. One last little trick from Kane. Trying to keep him off-balance and scared right up till the end. That must be the door that led down into the basement, and this was a final way to spook and frighten him. Rey couldn't help a whimper as he cringed back in the chair. "Oh God..."

"The fuck's his problem?" the woman asked from behind him.

"Just finished session five," the man replied "Ended up with result D, m'thinkin'. Almost record time."

"Shit, all the D's crack fast. The one last night was a D. Wonder what that's gonna mean."

"We ain't hadda single B yet though. They'd all still be strummin' on along if we'd let 'em, m'thinkin'."

Rey stared at the door as the two continued chatting behind him, making absolutely no sense. All their talk of sessions and results seemed completely out of place. It didn't take long to figure out though. Finished session five...he'd been thrown to Kane five times. Sessions. Kane was putting way too much thought into this scenario...way too much. The bastard was really good at the mind games. Results probably just mean that he had given up so fast...and Daniel. Daniel, who had been in the same trouble, who had recognized it and tried to warn them all...he'd given up as well. Been taken away for the last time last night. He'd fought it all the way but they'd been able to catch him and bring him back, and he was gone.

Part of Rey wanted to fight as well. His muscles were tensed and practically screaming for him to react, to take off the belt and run, to turn and hurt the demons carrying him towards doom and get away. But another part kept hearing Kane's sneering voice in his head, mocking him. _You're just making it better for me_...Kane wanted him to fight, loved to see it, to watch him strain futilely to free himself from this predicament, just to make himself more frightened and hopeless. Despite everything, there was still a sense to him that he didn't want to give Kane the satisfaction. No matter what he'd done to deserve Hell, Kane had done more, and if all Rey could offer at this point was a passive resistance, he would use it.

They reached the door, and Rey winced, clutching at the handles of the chair, unintentionally squeezing his eyes shut, just waiting to hear Kane's voice as they entered, waiting for the pair of guards to hand him over and leave to go and take care of whatever business denizens of Hell took care of in their daily lives. The chair was pushed forward-the room was cool, almost cold, he didn't expect that-and he heard the woman speaking.

"Hurry it up, we need to get him in there and fix things before too much time goes past."

"I know whatta do, damnit. Do th'same damn thing every day."

"He's gonna have to forget everything about this before we move him on. Orders say to reset him back to...the end of session two...damnit. That's gonna take hours. I was hoping to take an early dinner today."

The sheer routineness of that statement caused Rey to open his eyes, and he blinked a little at what was actually in the room. Kane was nowhere to be seen, and the room looked pretty similar to the MRI room he'd been in before, so far as size and the presence of large pieces of machinery. But none of it was anything like he'd ever seen in a hospital. There was a metal table in the middle of the room, with an ominous set of leather straps hanging from the sides, a tray of instruments pushed up against it and a giant light hanging over it, looking very much like a surgery table. The red glow came from the corner...there was a giant screen, like an enormous television, that was off, but the panel in front of it was covered in buttons, switches and lights, all red. Even as he looked at that, the giant surgery light flicked on, filling the room with a vaguely bluish light, and his attention was drawn to the white chair in front of the monitor. It seemed like it could be comfortable enough, but it too had leather straps across the arms and hanging from the back, and there was a sort of strange helmet sitting on top, that reminded him worryingly of the image of an electric chair he'd seen several times before on television.

The woman stepped in front of him and reached down, unfastening the seatbelt of the chair, and she took hold of his arm, pulling him up with a surprising amount of strength even for her size, and she guided him over towards the chair. "All right, all right, come on, sit down. We need to get a move on."

"Wait...I don't understand..." Rey said, pulling away from her, but as he did, she immediately snatched hold of his arm again, and his other arm was grabbed by the man, and they lifted him, actually physically lifting him and throwing him into the chair, and the man held him as the woman quickly pulled the straps over his arms, fastening them securely to the chair. "Wait...wait! I don't understand, what's going on?? What is this?? Where's Kane, why is this happening??"

"Session five must be brutal," the woman muttered, stepping around and pulling another strap from the back of the chair and around Rey's shoulders, pinning him against the back of the chair.

"That 'Kane' character is who's brutal," the man answered. "He did so well on this'un that Doc Bettler wants to keep him 'round for it."

"Doc...what?" Rey shook his head, blinking, involuntary pulling against the straps, trying to work himself loose. "Kane...keeping...this is another trick...another of his tricks, isn't it...oh God..."

There were a few seconds of silence, then the man was suddenly in front of him, leaning down and in his face, a faint sneer coming across his face. "Got that right, boy. Gonna be a real spectacular trick gonna happen t'you."

"Brad, stop it. We don't have time for you to fool around, we need to get him ready."

The man grinned, then straightened, reaching up and getting the helmet, starting to pull it down. "Go getta cocktail ready, I'll set th'thing up."

Rey shook his head, trying to scootch down and away as the man put the helmet onto his head, but before he did, he heard the woman speak up. "Wait." She came over, and held out a black mask, one of his. "If we're gonna reset him to the end of session two, he'll need that and his other clothes."

"Yeah, but let's do this first. Says on his file he'a puker. No reason to change him if'n he just gonna spew."

The woman shrugged and tossed the mask over onto the surgical table, then walked over to the monitor and panel, starting to work on some things as the helmet was pulled down onto Rey's head and a chin strap fastened. After only a few seconds, the woman crouched and took something from beneath the counter, then walked back over, carrying a tube of a thick red liquid that was disturbingly bloodlike. "Okay, open his mouth and let's get this down him."

Rey flinched at the sight of the tube and yelped when the man grabbed his face and started to force his mouth open. A spike of fear went through him and he screamed, starting to struggle frantically, trying to pull away. That tube was blood...what sort of blood he didn't know, but he was _sure_ of it. There was blood in it, and as soon as he drank it, something awful was going to happen, he just knew it. He couldn't let them do it. "N-no!" he cried, kicking as best he could at the woman, though she moved to one side to avoid his feet. "No, please, stop it, don't! I don't want to do this, I can't do this!"

"Sorry, honey, we got our orders," the woman answered, not even the slightest bit of sympathy to her voice. "Once this is all done you can go sleep it off before your new session starts."

_New session...new session with Kane...God, he was lying, he wasn't about to end it at all, he's still playing his mind games on me_...Rey whimpered, trying to pull free as she leaned in. "No, no no no, don't, please, don't do this! Don't make me go back to him! Please, I can't do it, please, stop, I'm sorry! I don't know what I did but I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

The woman just grabbed his face as well, and pushed the vial towards him, pouring some of the liquid into his mouth. He didn't recognize the taste as the usual taste of blood, but whatever it was, it was beyond foul. Rey screamed and spit, getting both of them in the face, and both recoiled with shouts of disgust. Rey kept spitting though, trying to get every last bit out, the horrid wretch on his tongue causing bile to rise in his throat.

"Goddamnit...that shit better not stain..." the woman snarled, pulling at her top. "These things take forever to get washed and there's only a few in my size." She lifted the vial and moved forward again-

Behind them, the door suddenly slammed open, and a familiar voice called out. "Get away from him, Amanda!"

Rey blinked, gasping, wanting to turn his head and look but unable to move from the restraints. "Dave??"

"What the hell are you doing?" the woman said, as the man shook his head and walked backwards, out of Rey's line of sight. "You're not supposed to be here today, his new session won't start until-,"

"There isn't going to be a new session. Untie him right now."

"C'mon now Davey boy," the man said. "Y'know ya ain't got much other option here-,"

The man's voice cut off in a grunt of pain, and then there was an odd screech and a loud crash from the vicinity of where the surgery table had been, followed by the sound of blows falling rapidly and heavily.

"Hey!" The woman dropped the vial to the floor and ran over, and Rey heard a sound of fabric ripping and a snarl, then a few more heavy blows and a shriek of pain. For only a second, everything was quiet, but Rey still flinched and gasped when Batista was suddenly crouched in front of him, wearing jeans and a torn black T-shirt, looking worried and sweaty, as though he'd just finished a hard workout.

"Rey...shit...got here as fast as I could...did they give you that shit?" He yanked at the straps holding him, untying Rey quickly.

"They...no...I spit it out...what's...Dave, what's happening...?"

"Don't worry about it. Here." Batista removed the helmet and helped him to his feet, then guided him towards the door, where a pillowcase had been dropped to the floor. He picked it up and handed it to Rey. "Get changed quick. It's too cold outside for what you've got on."

"Outside...outside?" Rey shook his head in confusion. "Dave, what's...what do you mean outside? How...why are you here? Is this part of another trick? Did Kane make you...?"

"No, Rey, no...Kane's not involved anymore. This is me, I'm here getting you outta here."

"Out of...out of Hell?" Rey blinked up at him.

Batista gritted his teeth for a minute, then shook his head slowly. "Look, don't worry about that right now. We just have to move fast or we aren't gonna make it, okay? Do you trust me?"

"Well...o-of course I do, but-,"

"Then just get changed so we can go, okay? Please."

Rey stared at him, but then scooted back, crouching and opening the pillowcase, pulling out a pair of jeans, a black sweatshirt, running shoes, and a heavy red jacket, debating the items only a second before easing out of the pajamas-stained with blood from where he'd spit it. As he dressed as quickly as he could, he saw that Dave kept looking worriedly out into the hall, and also that the man and woman who had brought him here were sprawled over by the table, both apparently unconscious and with the man bleeding from a cut across his forehead. "You beat up those demons..."

Dave looked back at him, then over at the two. "Demons? Yeah, they might as well be." He stared at them a second more, then sighed deeply. "Okay, come on, I got some stuff to talk to you about before..." Dave took hold of his hand, moving him towards the door, then stopped, seeing the black mask laying nearby. He hesitated, then moved over and got it, handing it to Rey. "Hang on to that. Never know when you could need it."

Rey looked down, then started to flick it and pull it on, but he froze as soon as it was over his head, and he pulled away from Dave quickly. "No...oh God..."

"What? Rey, what...what is it?"

"You're not taking me to Kane, are you? He always had me dressed and in my mask...you're not part of it...you can't be..."

"Rey..." Batista turned and gripped his shoulders. "I am not taking you to Kane, okay? I promise. I'm taking you out of this place, getting you home where you belong...back to your family."

"But how can you do that? I'm dead, I can't go back..."

"Rey, it's not like that-,"

Rey shook his head slowly, stepping back again, hesitant. He wanted so much to believe Dave and go with him, but on the other hand, that didn't make any sense. How could he be taken out of Hell? No one could do that save God Himself. It wasn't possible. Especially since Dave was here with him, how could he? How could they escape from Satan's realm on their own?

Before he could ask that, there was a sound of running out in the hallway, and Dave turned and tensed, readying for a fight, pushing Rey behind him. A person stepped in, and Rey stopped in his steps, eyes wide when he saw the newcomer.

"Dave! Holmes, we need to get a move...on..." He stopped where he was, staring towards Rey, his eyes going just as big as Rey felt his were at the moment. "Dios mio...Rey-Rey..._wowito_..."

Rey stepped back against the wall, staring, unable to comprehend what this could mean, what was happening...but able to form just one incredulous name.

"_Eddie??_"


	2. Chapter 2

Rey backed away from the door, shaking his head slowly, until his back was completely against the wall, and even there he pressed against it as though trying to fall through it and away. "But...but it can't be you...it just can't be, it..."

Yet despite his denials, there he was. Eddie Guerrero, looking almost silly and out of place in wrestling tights and an old DX T-shirt with a heavy plaid jacket thrown over the outfit, up on his toes in the way he typically was when he was in a hurry or in the ring, and certainly not like he had been dead for almost two years.

And he was also staring at Rey the way Rey imagined he was staring at Eddie. "My God...it's really him..." he whispered, seeming dumbstruck. "He's really here."

"Eddie, I told you to stay back until I could get him prepared for this," Dave growled.

Eddie snapped out of his apparent reverie and shot a glare towards Dave at that comment. "Well, sorry, holmes, but we sorta got a timetable and we need to get moving. You weren't too specific about just how many guards we were gonna have to maul our way through and I'm pretty sure Skittles is going to do someone permanent damage if we don't hurry up."

"Oh man," Rey whispered, sliding down to huddle in the corner, shaking his head. "Why?"

They looked back at him, and Eddie came over, crouching next to him, pulling him up and hugging him close. "Rey-Rey..._mi hermano_...I can't believe...you're really here..."

"Oh God..." Rey whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh God. Oh God. Please don't. Please don't be..."

"Rey?" Eddie leaned back to look at him. "Rey, it's okay, holmes, don't worry, we gotcha, we're gonna get you out of here..."

Rey let out a quiet sob, clutching at Eddie, burying his face in his neck and clinging to him. "Oh God...oh God, Eddie, please...please don't be here...please just let this be another stupid awful dream!"

"What? Holmes, Rey-Rey...it's okay, we're here now, we're gonna-,"

"It can't be true!" Rey wailed, still clinging to him. "It can't be! You can't be here in Hell, Eddie, you just can't be! It's not right! It's not! You can't be here, there's no one good enough on Earth if you're here! You can't be here!"

Eddie stared down at him for a moment, then glanced back at Batista. "What is he talking about?"

"I told you. They told him you were dead."

"Huh..." Eddie seemed at a loss for a minute, then turned his attention back to Rey, lifting his chin slightly to look him in the eyes. "Rey, listen. I'm not dead, I'm okay, see? I'm right here with you, I'm right here."

"I remember...I remember Chavo found you and he called and we were there and we...I held you...I remember...I saw you, Eddie! I saw you there, we all saw you!"

Eddie held on as Rey continued to cry, glancing back at Batista. "He saw me?"

"I don't know, man. I've got the files in the van so we can try to figure out how to help him, but first we just need to get him out of here."

Eddie nodded, then looked back at Rey, lifting his face again. "Come on, Rey-Rey. You gotta calm down and come with us, all right?"

"It's...it's...it won't work, Eddie...it won't work...we're in Hell, we can't get out of here..." He looked up the two of them, who were looking down at him worriedly. "We can't escape from Hell, Eddie...we..." He whimpered, curling back up, hugging his knees. "We're damned...all of us damned...or you're just figments, I don't know...I don't know, Eddie...I can't...this won't work anymore..."

Eddie sat back a little, and he shot what looked to be a very irritated look towards Dave, who sort of ducked his head away, chewing his lip. After a second, though, Eddie looked back at him, reaching out to take Rey's chin in his hand and lift it, looking him in the eyes and smiling some. "Rey, listen to me. You're right, ordinarily people can't leave Hell, but this is a special case, Rey. You were stolen."

"I...I what...?" Rey asked, looking up at him.

"What?" Batista echoed, raising an eyebrow, glancing back towards the two unconscious guards.

"When...when you died, okay, listen..." Batista seemed to move to protest, but Eddie shot a hand up at him for silence. "You were supposed to go to Heaven, Rey, you were. But the devil...he snatched you away before anything could stop him. You aren't supposed to be here so we were sent to bring you out and take you to where you belong, okay?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Batista hissed, leaning in towards Eddie, who almost seemed to swat him back with a hard dismissal.

"You...came to save me...?" Rey asked softly, looking between them, sniffling and wiping at his eyes.

"That's right. We were sent to come and save you, bring you out of here. I know it's hard and you're scared, but you have to trust me, okay? We're here to take you home. We're gonna do everything in our power to bring you home."

"Wh-what about Kane? He...they gave me t-to him to...to...to...have..."

Eddie shook his head. "I won't let him touch you again, not ever, Rey. I'm going to protect you and I'm going to get you home. You're going to be fine now. But you have to trust us and you have to let us take you out of here. Okay? Can you do that for me?"

"He's gonna be messed up enough already without you adding to it..." Batista snarled, but Eddie whipped around to glare at him.

"We can worry about that once we get him out of here in one piece, all right? Right now we just gotta get him out of this God-awful place!"

Rey bit his lip, shivering a little as he watched them. "It's not a trick, is it?"

Eddie turned back and crouched in front of Rey, offering his hands and smiling warmly. "For once, holmes, I ain't lyin'. It's not a trick."

Rey hesitated a moment, then took Eddie's hands, starting to get to his feet. The instant he was upright, though, his knees buckled, and he staggered forward against Eddie's chest, gasping softly. "Weak..." he murmured. "Think...trying keep me down..."

"Those drugs they were giving him..." Batista growled, gesturing to the blood-like puddle on the ground. "He didn't get but a little of it, but it's still enough to have him groggy. That shit is, for lack of a better term, concentrated."

Eddie considered a moment, then held Rey up some. "Okay, listen, holmes. If they're going to try and keep you from running away, then I can carry you out of here...they can't stop me. You think if I piggyback you, you can manage to hang on, at least?"

"I...yeah...I can..."

Eddie nodded, then turned and crouched slightly, allowing Rey to wrap his arms around his neck before standing, tucking his arms under Rey's legs and holding him up, grunting a little at the effort as he shifted him up into a comfortable position. "No chokeholds now, holmes."

"Maybe I should carry him..." Batista said.

"I can carry him. You need your arms free in case you need to punch somebody or if one of the others is hurt. Besides Cena, you're the only one with enough muscle that we've got to do any good."

Batista sighed, then nodded. "All right, follow me." He turned and went to the door, opening it and peeking out, checking both ways, then stepping out, moving down the hall a bit to a stairwell door, typing in a keycode on a device next to it and pushing it open, holding it for Eddie to slip through before following. "They're gonna be coming after us hard. They won't wanna let us get out of here."

"Well they got a few big surprises waiting for them when they do. They ain't stopping us."

"I hope you're right." Batista led the way down a couple of flights of stairs, checking each landing before leading Eddie and Rey down with him. They were down three floors when a distinctly un-hospital sound filled the air...the revving of a chainsaw and the solid _thunk_ of something hitting the ground, and then the sound of an alarm blaring and a southern accent calling out.

"Dave, Eddie! You guys hurry up! We're getting swamped down here!"

"Fuck!" Dave increased his pace, and Eddie bolted behind him, panting a little from the effort, as Rey winced and held on a little tighter. They spun around the last landing and Dave all but jumped the last flight, bursting through a door that had the doorknob roughly hacked away, and there was a sound of cacophony...grunts and groans of pain and exertion and solid thuds of bodies hitting the floor, overlaid with the still-wrong sound of a chainsaw idling.

When Eddie stepped through the door, Rey's eyes widened at the near mob scene that was unfolding. They were in what looked like the hospital lobby, though it was sparsely furnished and the same bland colors as the hallways upstairs had been. There were nearly two dozen guards in gray jumpsuits, some upright and still fighting, some laid out already, but at the same time, he recognized several of his coworkers who were brawling with them, and were clearly gaining the upper hand.

Jeff Hardy was the one who was first obvious, as tended to be the case whenever he was part of a group. For him, he mostly looked typical...black cargo pants and a white shirt-though one that was now flecked with worrying red and brown stains-blue hair, and shredded sleeves that stopped just before his shoulders. What was unusual even for him was the yellow piece of machinery he was wielding...holding the idling chainsaw and brandishing it at a few guards to keep them back, single-handedly holding off an entire hallway from which people were trying to enter the melee.

As Batista got a running start and tackled a couple of the guards, Chavo Guerrero popped up from where he'd been pinned on the floor and immediately jumped to help Batista fight. Just like Eddie, he was somewhat awkwardly dressed in wrestling tights and a thrown-on shirt and jacket.

Next he saw John Cena, in denim shorts, a pair of high-top sneakers, and a Boston college sweater, who was straddling a rather large guard on the ground and steadily pounding him about the head.

The last was a woman who he felt he should recognize, but didn't quite. She was blonde, muscular, and quite efficiently out-slugging another guard, wearing a shiny black one-piece outfit and with a sleeveless black trenchcoat that, for what it should have weighed, didn't seem to be slowing her down in the slightest.

If not for how utterly bizarre the whole thing was, it wouldn't have looked even slightly out of place on a wrestling show.

"What's going on...?" Rey murmured, blinking at the melee, as with Batista's help, the fight was over in barely a minute.

"Don't worry about it, holmes," Eddie said, shifting his weight slightly. "Just hang on. Dave! I'm carrying him out of here!"

"Please wait..." a woman's voice intoned from behind them, and Eddie spun around towards it. Rey's eyes widened when he saw Marcia, the grandmotherly nurse, standing in front of a set of glass double doors through which he could see the outside world, between it and them-and holding a gleaming pistol at her side.

"Lady, I wouldn't-," the blonde woman started to snarl, but before either could do anything, Batista stepped up between, pushing them apart.

"Chill out, Beth, she's on our side. Marcia, I know I jumped the gun a little," Batista said, holding up his hands slightly.

"Yeah, you did," Marcia grumbled, in a voice that was nothing like her usual cheerful tone...it was annoyed and vaguely frazzled. "I have agents maybe five minutes away from here and you and your little band of musclemen has already taken out the majority of the peons."

"They were about to try resetting Rey, I couldn't let them go through with it again. That shit shouldn't happen to anyone."

"Which is why we've been working to get the evidence to bring this place down," Marcia muttered, glancing over as the others approached, raising an eyebrow at Jeff's chainsaw. "I can assure you that you can turn that off now. Preferably before you dismember anyone by mistake."

"Mistake would be the key word," Jeff drawled, but he released the trigger and the idling engine quieted down.

"_Madre de dios_..." Chavo murmured softly, stepping closer and reaching over to touch Rey's shoulder, eyes wide. "He's really...it's actually him."

"Did you really think I'd bring you guys all here with a lie like that?" Batista asked, turning and looking back at Rey, who was studying them silently, seeming a little bleary-eyed.

There was the briefest moment of silence from the group, but a groan from one of the beaten guards brought them back to their senses, and Cena stepped forward, frowning. "We need to get out of here now. The calvary's coming, we'll just be in the way." He started towards the door, the others trailing behind him, still staring at Rey.

"We've got a van waiting," Batista said to Marcia, who kept hold of the gun as they stepped through the double doors and out into the cool air...Rey shuddered a bit at the shock of it, wondering how it was so much colder than it had been through his window. "We can load him up and get on our way, get him to a real doctor."

"You should wait until my guys get here," Marcia replied, starting to walk them into a batch of woods, out of line of sight of the hospital. "There's going to be a lot of debriefing that has to get done and you're going to be questioned, too."

"I know I am. But the others can still take Rey away. He doesn't need to be caught up in any more of this, it's going to be enough of a shock on his system as it is."

"Look, it'll only be a few more minutes, then we can-,"

Marcia's words were drowned out when there was a brilliant blast of light, a roar of noise, and a searing rush of heat that even through the slight shielding of trees, knocked them all flat to the ground, and Rey yelped when he was blown away from Eddie, sent skidding across the ground. He grunted in pain, but out of instinct, sat up quickly, eyes wide, looking for the danger, but stopped at the sight he could behold. Or more correctly, could no longer behold.

The hospital's building was gone. All that remained was shreds and piles and a couple of pillars of a towering inferno, the entire lot ablaze with flames and orange heat. Everything...every last bit...was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Rey stared in shock, even as his eyes began to water from the heat and brightness. Something had happened, something had gone really terribly wrong, and the hospital was gone. There was fire already swallowing up whatever bits and pieces had been left, and he could actually see where a basement would be, except for the fact that it too was filled with flame, looking like an open maw of Hell itself springing up from the ground as though trying to break through into the world. He whimpered, trying to scoot back, falling back against the ground as the strength in his arms failed him, but tried to keep moving anyway.

"Rey-Rey!" Someone grabbed him, and he gasped at first, but then he looked up and saw Eddie over him, a thin trickle of blood coming from a scrape along his cheek and jacket sleeve ripped, face etched in fear and worry. "Rey, are you okay? Speak to me holmes, tell me you're okay!"

"M'fine..." Rey whispered, coughing a little, trying to sit back up and realizing he was out of breath, probably had gotten the wind knocked out of him when he'd been tossed to the ground. "Fine, didn't...not hurt..."

Eddie pulled him up and checked him over regardless, then brushed him off as though the dirt and leaves clinging to his clothes could be responsible for an injury. His worry was almost cute, in a way, and Rey couldn't help but smile at the familiarity of it as he was pulled in close for another hug, resting his head against Eddie's shoulder.

"Was that a bomb?" he heard a woman yelling, and looked over to see the blonde woman, Beth, her coat now in tatters, scrambling over to Marcia to try and help the older lady to her feet. "What about the people in there? What the _hell_ was that??"

"It had to have been..." Marcia murmured breathlessly, holding her head and staggering a little, though Beth held on to her arm to keep her steady. "I didn't know they were...oh my God...if we...all of us would have been in there..." She clasped a hand to her temple again, looking rather shellshocked.

"We need to move!" another voice broke in, and Cena ran towards them from wherever he had landed. "If that place exploded, there's gonna be shit raining down on us in no time!"

Even as he was speaking, the fates decided to prove his point. There was a clattering and a thudding as bits began to rain down around them, and Rey grunted as Eddie hauled him up and cradled him close. Eddie hurried along a bit to where Chavo was just starting to sit up, dirty but otherwise untouched, and hauled him up, calling out as he did. "Where are Jeff and Dave?"

"I'm over here!" Batista yelled, making his way over, arms over his head as a bit of flaming debris whipped past several feet behind him. "I don't see Jeff, I don't see where he-,"

The conversation was ceased at a sudden sustained shriek, a kind of berserk, terrified sound in the woods ahead. Batista turned towards it and ran in that direction, still shielding his head with his arms as the others followed, the thuds and whacks and eerie tinklings of things showering around them. Batista swirled around one batch of trees and saw Jeff on his knees ahead, hands up in front of him as he stared at them, screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes bulging. Dave rushed forward to see what was happening, and skidded to a stop, gasping and whipping around, pushing Eddie to a hard stop. "Go around, don't take Rey near him!" he shouted, then turning to head back for Jeff's side.

"What's wrong? What happened, is he hurt?" Cena rushed forward as well as Eddie started to move towards the side, wincing as he held Rey tighter.

"No...it's worse," Batista muttered, wincing and reaching down to grab the back of Jeff's shirt and haul him to his feet. Cena glanced at Jeff, who was still screaming and staring at his hands and part of his left sleeve, which were covered in some...strange material. Gray and black and red and almost like a kind of ash, maybe, but wet somehow...

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Beth gasped from behind him, and he looked back at her, seeing her face was pale and her hands were clasped over her mouth, then down at whatever it was she was gazing at. It was something that was unfortunately easy to recognize...most...of a burned torso. It had been charred so badly that it crackled apart in places, revealing disturbingly bright red innards-with two bigger...crushed-opened areas...and judging from the positions, he guessed that it had fallen in front of him, and while Jeff had been trying to use his hands and climb to his feet, he'd accidentally-

"Oh Jesus Christ," Cena repeated, wincing, as Batista shook the still-hysterical Jeff, trying to get his attention.

"Stop it, Jeff, stop! Calm down! We need to get out of here, now!"

"I put my hands _in it_, man!" Jeff was howling, holding his hands away as though they might somehow hurt him if they came close. "My fucking hands in it!! I had _my hands __**in it**__!!_"

Another crash burst through the treetops and a large piece of burning rubble landed to their right, and Cena shook his head, stepping in, grabbing Jeff's arm and tossing him up and over his shoulders. "We ain't got time for this, let's move!" he snarled, turning and starting to run, seeing Eddie, Chavo and Marcia were ahead of them, Marcia now in the lead, guiding them out. He sprinted after her, barely hearing Beth and Batista pelting behind him and the whizzing and smashing of debris falling around them over the sound of Jeff's continued screams.

Marcia pushed through a row of bushes and out into a clearing, coming to a breathless stop, as the others froze behind her. "Don't worry," she said, glancing back to them. "They're my friends."

There were several vehicles in the lot, military-styled ones. Jeeps and a couple of obviously police cars and a few trucks and one bus were lined along a road leading in from the other side of the woods, with people in helmets and riot gear and olive uniforms buzzing about, shouting to each other and carrying things back and forth, ducking under a hastily erected green canopy to try and avoid the falling detritus that was making it even this far. One, a large man with a thick mustache and a fierce jawline, who's very countenance screamed "general", hurried over to them, eyes blazing.

"Morales, what the fuck happened over there??"

"They had a bomb in the building, sir," Marcia replied, rubbing her forehead as they headed for the canopy. "It...it would have killed us all if we'd gone ahead as planned...I had no idea..."

"Who are these people?" the man barked, as Cena brought up the rear in coming through the bushes, still carrying Jeff, who'd finally gone silent, and rushed to join them, setting Jeff down and rubbing his back a little to try and comfort the shivering Hardy.

"They..." Marcia looked to Eddie, then reached over to touch Rey's arm as he stared at them in obvious worry. "This was one of the test subjects. And that's the man I was telling you about, Dave Batista, helping me out. They...came to save their friend..."

"So they're responsible for everything going straight to shit on us??" he snarled.

"No, no...they saved us, sir. That bomb went off only a few minutes after intruders had been detected. They were remarkably quick with getting in and out. If they hadn't...we'd have all been in the building when it went off. We wouldn't have saved anyone. There'd be no evidence left."

The man snarled softly, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "Goddamnit. Motherfucking Bettler is too smart."

"We still have all the evidence we gathered," Marcia replied. "We have mine and Dave's notes and observations and the stolen paperwork. And we have Rey here. He's going to be indisputable proof. We'll still get them, sir."

Another of the apparent soldiers ran over to them. "Sir, a civilian vehicle is approaching, a large blue van!"

"It's okay, holmes," Eddie replied quickly. "That's our ride. He's just coming to meet us."

The general let out a bit of a frustrated sigh, but nodded. "Arrange an escort and take these civilians somewhere safe until we can finish processing things here. I want round-the-clock guards, we can't let anything happen to-,"

There was a bizarre kind of snapping sound, and before they quite realized what was happening, the side of the general's head burst out a spray of red and material, and his eyes bulged as he staggered, then fell to the side. Marcia screamed, then fell to her knees next to him. "Sir! _SIR_!"

There was another whizzing and a burst, and several feet away, another man's head snapped back as he fell to the ground as well. Now there was a cacophony, the men began yelling to one another, running about, grabbing weapons and firing back into the woods, even as more of them were knocked to the ground or shot apart by the sudden incoming barrage. Jeff began to scream again, but this time the others joined him, looking around, moving, trying to figure out what to do, where to go-

"Come on!" Marcia cried, lunging up, grabbing Eddie's arm and hauling him and Rey forward, bolting towards the road at the other end of the clearing. "Hurry, hurry, run, run _now_!!"

They rushed after her, straight through the thick of the other soldiers, even as some of them were shot and fell in their wake, they kept running. Cena kept a firm grip on Jeff's arm, hauling him bodily, Beth kept her arms up and over her head in what would have been a futile attempt to protect herself if any of the incoming bullets found their way to her. Dave huffed ahead, staying to one side of Eddie and Rey, gritting his teeth as there were more pops and shouts as more men fell around them.

"Fuck!" Cena barked as he stumbled and tripped over one of the bodies in their path, and he squirmed a minute to get back to his feet, but Jeff, even as he was still shrieking in terror, whipped down, grabbing him under the arms and pulling him up, all but dragging him along as they went, but then he tripped as well, falling on top of John as a bullet whizzed just over his head, enough that there was a tug through his hair as he went down. At that, Cena finally kicked his way to his feet, barely noticing his high tops being left behind as he did, and pulling Jeff up with him and all but dragging Jeff under his arm, running forward to catch the others.

"There's the car!" Chavo yelled, pointing ahead as they came over a small hill, getting into the woods, leaving the sounds of the chaos and destruction behind. The blue moving van was driving forward, but it came to a stop as they came into sight, and the driver's door opened. Josh Matthews, wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dress pants, stepped out, eyes wide.

"What the hell is going on??"

"Get back in the car, Josh, get the doors open!" Eddie bellowed, and Josh blinked, then jumped back into the seat, and the sliding side panel came open, and John Morrison was standing there shirtless, but in tight jeans and a long fur coat, blinking in confusion.

"What the-?"

"Get the fuck out of the way, Johnny!" Eddie bellowed, and Morrison swung to the side as Eddie all but dove in, rolling to the back and keeping Rey tucked against his chest. Chavo crawled in behind them, and Dave and Marcia took up either side of the door, guiding the others in.

"Come on, Marcia, let's go," Dave said, moving to gesture her in. She nodded and moved to get in.

"All right, we'll be able to run for headquarters and-,"

Even as she spoke, there was another snap, and Marcia didn't even have time to react, her eyes just went wide as there was a burst of red from the back of her head. She slumped forward into Batista's arms, and he grunted and gasped as he caught her.

"Marcia...Marcia! Oh my God...oh my God-!"

There was a loud ping as a hole appeared in the side of the van, and Cena lashed out, grabbing Batista by the head. "Get in here, man!" He hauled Dave backwards and into the van, causing him to drop Marcia's body as another bullet burst through the inside, hitting on the other side, making everyone inside cry out. "Floor it Josh _floor it_!"

Josh slammed a foot to the floor, and the van's wheels squealed as it did. Cena barely finished hauling Dave in before the van took off, and Morrison lashed out, grabbing the door, and yanked it shut just as another bullet shattered the window. They all huddled into the floor, grunting as the van bumped and bounced over the road as Josh peeled out, tearing down the road. There was another pop of a bullet hitting, then a loud bang beneath them as the van lurched around and went wild.

"Motherfucking our tire!" Josh snarled from the driver's seat, but he kept his foot on the gas and clung to the wheel, spinning it hard, even as it sent all the others slamming from wall to wall in the back, tumbling over and around with the force.

"Good God man!" Morrison managed to crawl his way over the front and fall into the seat next to him. "Do you know what you're doing??"

"I can promise you-," Josh spun the wheel, forcing Morrison to hang on and causing another series of bangs and shouts from the others in the back, "-I can do this better than anyone else!"

Morrison winced and looked forward, then yelped at the sight of men in the road ahead of them, brandishing firearms. "Shit! They're gonna shoot at us!"

"Get down!" Josh snarled, and he pressed even harder on the pedal.

"Are you going to hit those guys??"

"They're trying to kill us so hell yes I'm going to hit those guys!" He gritted his teeth at the difficulty in steering, but just missed a couple of them as they dropped their guns and dove out of the way.

"You can't just hit those guys!"

"I see no problem in hitting those guys!"

"That's freaking murder!"

"Thank you, John, would you like to add any other useful nuggets of wisdom to this conversation??" Josh grunted and aimed for another, and this time the man didn't quite make it and was clipped by the side mirror on Morrison's side, sending him rolling into the bushes on the side of the road.

"Well for God's sakes, if you're going to hit them then keep them away from my side of the car!"

Josh gritted his teeth, knuckles bloodless on the steering wheel, and as they came to the end of the road, even Josh gasped at the sight of a number of white cars formed in a barricade at the end of the road, with people standing and waiting for them. "Oh fuck."

"What do we do now?"

"You get down. I already told you."

"You're going to ram them?"

"If you have a better idea, I would absolutely love to hear it!"

Morrison winced, then reached back and grabbed a seatbelt, pulling it forward and fastening it tightly. "Grab onto something back there, guys!"

Josh leaned forward, bracing himself against the wheel, and some of the people around the cars took off running to get out of the way. Josh carefully aimed, seeing two cars that had enough of a space between them, and gunned it, flying forward and hitting both cars with a solid crash, managing to force the van through. The others yelled and were tossed about again, and Josh yelped as his forehead smashed into the wheel, but even as the van shuddered and started to slow, his foot was right back on the gas and pushing it, tearing down the highway they had made it onto and into the night, leaving the people and the white cars scattered in their wake.

There was quiet for a few minutes, as Josh sped down the highway, but finally the thudding of the shredded tire and general destruction of the van forced him to pull over, under a small overpass on an adjoining road, where he cut the engine and the lights, and they all sat in the dark. Finally, Josh and Morrison turned to look into the back at the others, Morrison wincing a little.

"Are you guys okay? What happened back there?"

They were lined along the walls of the van, clinging to one another. Rey was sitting in one back corner, with Eddie and Chavo on either side, all three of them hanging onto each other for dear life. Dave, with an expression of pure shock on his face, sat in the other corner, blinking. Jeff was next to him, crying softly, still holding out his hands somewhat, shivering. Beth's face was somewhat more confused than horrified but still showed her fear, and next to her, Cena was hugging his knees to his chest, shaking his head slowly. After a minute, finally, in a soft, wavery voice, he was the one who spoke.

"I lost my shoes."

Morrison and Josh looked at each other again, Josh chewing his lip. "I think we better find another vehicle and get the hell out of here."

"Yeah, I think we should too."


	4. Chapter 4

Morrison watched as Josh and Cena, borrowing Eddie's boots for the time being, slipped off into the night, going through the nearby woods towards civilization to search for a less-damaged mode of transportation for them, then sat back. Finally he reached over, pulling the door shut, then scooted over to sit beside a still-whimpering Jeff and help him scrub his bare arms clean with a bottle of water, looking over at the others. They were all still in a state of shock, but after having spent a few quiet minutes of safety, they were at least able to process again.

"My God..." Beth murmured. "Do you think any of those army guys got away?"

"I doubt it...it's a miracle we all made it," Chavo said. "I mean...all that...enough bomb to take out that whole big building..."

"And...and..." Beth looked over to where Rey was sitting, still between the Guerreros. Eddie was holding him tightly, rubbing his arm, and he was staring up at Eddie with a somewhat enthralled look in his eyes, as though Eddie was simply the most amazing thing he'd ever been exposed to. "And he's here. I mean...he's really here."

Chavo looked over to Batista, who was crouched and gathering up some papers that had been scattered about the van during the escape. He picked up a final page and tapped the pages to get them in line, then began sorting through them. "And you said you had an explanation for what the hell is going on here."

Batista sighed and turned back to them. "I think so. I'm not 100% clear on the details...Marcia told me as much as she could..."

"And who was she?" Morrison asked. "And who were the army guys? And to be honest, what's going on? All I know is that one second I'm in the hall defending my sexuality against Beth there, and the next we're on our way to rescue someone who's been dead for almost five years."

"Five years...?" Rey whispered, finally breaking his gaze and looking over at them. "But Kane said..."

"Kane was lying," Batista said, a faint growl slipping into his voice. "Everyone was lying."

"Even you?"

There was a long pause, as Batista kept his gaze down on the floor. Finally he sighed. "Even me." He looked back up to Rey, face tight with apprehension. "But I didn't want to, Rey, you have to believe that...I didn't want to but I had to, to...to do what I could to protect you..."

"But...but with Kane and the fire and...Hell, Dave, I saw Hell...I _saw_ it...I was in it, I had to be, I was...am I still...?"

"No, Rey." Batista scooted closer, gripping his arms lightly. "You weren't, you never were. You were-,"

"How did you all get here, then? I mean, I died, Kane showed me everything, he...the funeral and...how could you...you aren't all dead, are you?"

Batista sat back, chewing his lip a little. "Look...it's hard to describe...it wasn't all supposed to happen this way, I...I was supposed to be part of the raid that just happened. But there was this mix-up with what the hospital had going on with me..."

( )

Josh grumbled to himself as he followed behind Cena. "Goddamnit this is so stupid. We shouldn't be having to do this. It's completely unnecessary. None of this shoulda ever happened...stupid 'roided-up veiny bastard..."

"What the hell are you so pissed at Dave for, man?" Cena asked, glancing back at him as he stepped through a patch of brier bushes and held them apart for Josh to come through. "He got all of us in to come on this rescue mission...if we hadn't been here, we wouldn't have gotten Rey back, he and everyone else would be..." Cena winced a little, looking back in the direction they'd come. "Yeah..."

"He didn't do anything! The son of a bitch was just moping around when I confronted him and I practically had to beat him into getting off his ass and doing something! He would've just wallowed until those army people called him and then Rey'd be dead...all over again or something, shit...and he'd be dead and we'd have never known what happened!"

Cena stepped through the woods to another bit of blacktop, and looked both ways, pointing. "Lights down there. Looks like a bar or something."

"Good, maybe there'll be something we can steal there." Josh pushed ahead, starting in that direction.

"Steal? We're gonna steal a car?"

"Well, how else exactly did you expect we were going to get another vehicle? Unless those are jorts of holding and you have a wad of money and a 24-hour dealership in there, we don't have another option."

"Touché." Cena hurried to catch up with him. "So what exactly happened with you guys?"

"Who?"

"You and Dave, man. As soon as you guys came to me, you were already bitching him out to everyone. What's the deal?"

"The deal is, Cena...you know what, lemme tell you all about what the deal is with that coward scum..."

( )

Batista paced his locker room, alternately putting on a coat and then taking it off, stopping to tie and retie his shoelaces, restless. He was waiting for a familiar knock on the door, one he was dreading, but he knew it would be necessary, one last piece in the puzzle.

Finally, it came, and he spun around and hurried over to the door, opening it. The usual courier was there, the fellow who spent the early part of the day before any show delivering folders and files and the occasional piece of mail. He was only holding the one folder, though, this must have been the last place he stopped. "Here ya go, Mr. Batista, all your stuff."

"Thanks..." Dave muttered, digging a few dollars from his pocket and tipping the guy, then closing the door, sighing and walking over to the bench of the room, flopping down to sit on it, glaring down at the plain manila folder. He knew already what was inside it. His instructions, the time for when he should come, the outfit he'd be required to wear, straight down to requiring his hair length to be checked again to be sure it was nearly identical to where it had been before. In order to keep things "under control." He finally opened the folder, picking up the first piece of paper and scanning over it.

It wasn't the right thing.

Batista frowned slightly when he saw, instead of appearance orders, a listing of matches and notes about things to be done on the show tonight. Referees, interview segments, possible things to speak about. This was a folder of notes for an announcer, not the material he was expecting.

Even as he was acknowledging this, there was a heavy knock at his locker room door, and he stood, holding the folder and still staring at the page, trying to figure out why he had this. "Yeah, okay, I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your panties in a wad..." He lowered the folder and pulled open the door. "What is-"

CLANG!

Before he even saw it coming, he felt the chair crash into his head, and he grunted, stumbling backwards and into the locker room, falling over onto his back on the floor, holding his head. "Fucking...A! What the fuck!"

"You fucking _monster_! You unbelievable son of a bitch!"

Batista looked up in time to see the chair coming again, and rolled to the side to avoid it as it smashed the floor where he had been. He was up and on his knees in a second, looking, and he saw the ring announcer, Josh Matthews, wearing a suit and tie, with an expression of unmistakable fury on his face, even as he was drawing the chair back to take another swing at him. Batista lashed up in time to catch the chair before Josh could hit him again, and wrenched it out of the smaller man's hands, tossing it behind him. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

Josh snarled, reaching down and grabbing a manila folder that was tucked into his belt, whipping it out and holding it up. "You sick bastard! I can't believe you'd be involved in something like this! I can't _believe_ you!"

Batista looked at the folder in his hands, then over to the floor where he'd dropped the one he'd been holding previously, then back again. He suddenly wished he hadn't tipped the damn courier.

"Josh, listen, it's not what you think, okay, it's-," Dave grunted when those words were rewarded with Josh taking the folder and beginning to smack it over Batista's head as hard as he could manage, which was a fair bit harder than Batista would have thought possible from the announcer. Fortunately, it was just the folder, and Batista was able to catch hold of Josh's wrists before he could decide to start using fists instead. "Would you stop?"

"This had better just be the sickest rib in the history of the business, Dave, or I swear to God I am going to figure out some way to end you!" Josh snarled, struggling to work his arms loose. "All that shit about tests and about results and how goddamn long your hair has to be, a fucking _graph_ with responses, and...and..." Josh's voice choked and cracked when he spoke the next word, tears that had been welling up now starting to come down his cheeks. "Rey. Rey, fucking Rey-goddamn-Mysterio, with a _picture_, Dave, with a goddamn _picture_ of him!"

Batista stood, then took hold of the folder and yanked it out of Josh's hands, letting him go and stepping out of his range quickly. "I know."

Josh stared up at him, visibly seething, fists clenched tightly at his sides. "You better be making up some kind of disgusting joke. I'll still hate you but at least I won't have to have you killed."

Batista looked down at the folder, then turned, walking back over to the bench and sitting down, opening it and scanning through the pages, mouth quirking a little as he read through it, wincing somewhat at the script and diagrams, none of which made much sense to him, but the overall tone being that he would need to be back at the hospital at the end of the week to start a new session. He shook his head slowly, then set the folder on the bench next to him, leaning forward and sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Shit."

"I'm going to find something and cave your motherfucking head in, just so you know," Josh growled, and Batista looked up to see him looking around the room, seeing the chair and going over to pick it back up.

"I would deserve it, I know..." Batista muttered.

"How long has this been going on?" Josh demanded. "_What_ is going on? How can there be files on Rey when he's dead?"

Batista raised his head, looking around a moment. He stood, and Josh backed away slightly, still brandishing the chair, but Batista walked right past him, going to the door and opening it, peering out into the hallway a moment. He then stepped back and shut the door, then turned the latch on it to lock it, before turning back to Josh, walking past him again to sit back down on the bench with a heavy sigh. "It's been going on pretty much from the word go...I don't know exactly what it is that's going on, except that it's some sort of weird experiment, and there are files because Rey isn't dead."

Josh stared at him, blinking, then shook his head. "I...you didn't, I, uh..."

"I said about the same thing when they told me."

"An...experiment? What do you mean an experiment?"

"I don't know all the details. I'm...I'm working on it. There's some government stuff involved, I have help, they got me reporting back to them...but it's not just Rey, it's a lot of people. A whole building full of people...they've only had me in on it for about a year now but...it's been happening for at least as long as...since the fire."

Josh stared at him, blinking, and Dave had the feeling he wasn't quite able to decide whether or not he was still angry. "An experiment?"

"Science, mind, memory...stuff, I don't know. I don't understand it all. They stole a lot of people to use. Literally stole them...that fire that we thought killed Rey was a cover for them kidnapping a few people out of there to use."

"But they...they found his body..."

Batista shook his head. "They found _a_ body. Wasn't Rey's. Don't know how they did it but they were able to do something to make people think the DNA testing fit, made them think it was Rey that way...sure as hell made sure no one could identify him any other way...just used some random hobo off the street to do it. Same with a lot of the other people who are there."

Josh blinked at him. "Other people?"

"Dozens of people...maybe a couple hundred. There's a whole building full of them getting tested on. As far as I know, all of them snatched out of their lives and just...taken."

Josh unfolded the chair, then sat down in it, shaking his head, the war between disbelief and disturbance obvious on his face. "That doesn't make any sense. If they had the hobo, then why steal Rey? Why steal anyone? If they could just get a bunch of transients to use for faking deaths, why not use them?"

"I don't know." Batista scoffed somewhat and held out his hands in frustration. "I don't know, I don't understand myself. Believe me, I've asked myself the question so many times since they dragged me into this..."

"Who are they? How did they drag you into this?"

Batista shook his head slightly. "I don't know who the people in charge are yet. But Vince came to me...me and Kane. Told us he needed us to do something for him..."

"Vince? Vince McMahon, our boss, Vince?"

Batista nodded. "Said he was involved in something, needed us to help with it. Told us everything, told us we had to keep it secret or else everyone really would get killed, and not just them but the people we cared about, anyone we had close to us. Anything to keep the secret." He sighed. "Kane thinks the whole thing is hilarious."

Josh simply sat and stared at him for a minute. Batista could understand his confusion, and wasn't too surprised at what came out of his mouth next. "Are you sure this isn't a rib?"

"I'm sure, Josh. I've been...Kane and I both...traveling up to the base a few times to do these...scenarios or some shit...and if it gets out what we're doing then they'll go through with killing everyone there, and my family...anyone they think they need to eliminate. Guessing from what I've seen...I believe they could do it, too."

Josh still stared at him, a faint frown furrowing into place, as he thought over all this. Batista sighed, picking up the folder and looking through it again, making a face at the orders written across the pages and the generic additions of advancement...obviously stuff they just sent out to anyone without any thought given. Typical beauracracy method of handling things, after all.

"Well you have to go get him."

Batista blinked and looked at Josh, who was scowling. "What?"

"You have to get him out of there, Dave. You can't just leave him there."

"Josh, there's no...we can't do anything. There's people working on it, they're hoping to try and get everyone rescued, it's just gonna take some time..."

"No, uh-uh, fuck that. It isn't going to take any time. No more time."

"How would I? I'm just one man, I can't get him out by myself! Even if I could...he's in no condition...he couldn't handle the shocks..."

"So you're just going to leave him there, keep letting this happen, while his family, his friends, everyone keeps dealing with their grief and you go home to your family at the end of the week?"

Batista winced as Josh's voice raised slightly, glancing around as though expecting to see someone spying on them. "What else can I do?"

"Get him out, save him, fucking try at least!"

"I can't do it alone..."

"I'll go," Josh said without hesitation.

"You will?" Batista looked up at him.

"Rey was my friend, is my friend. Probably one of the only people around here to treat me like more than a living microphone." Josh gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes. "And if you don't think I can cut it, let's throw down right now."

"Josh, this building has security out the wazoo. We can't just waltz in there."

Josh shrugged. "Pull the fire alarm?"

Dave blew out a breath, thinking a moment. "We need someone else."

"What about Chavo and Eddie?"

Batista shrugged, looking up at him. "Do you think they could...handle it?"

"I don't fucking know. I'm not even sure I'm handling it."

"If it makes you feel better, I think I have a huge goose egg on top of my head from that chair shot."

Josh looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, that is a hell of a lump."

"Yeah, well...I deserved it. I deserve the ones that Eddie and Chavo are gonna give me, too."

"Damn fucking right you do." Josh stepped over, snatching the folder out of his hands. "Come on. Let's go catch them and start breaking the news. Maybe we can sell tickets to the beating you're gonna get."

Batista got to his feet slowly, wincing a little, rubbing his temple as Josh stopped to pick up the chair, leading him out into the hallway and down towards the other locker rooms.


	5. Chapter 5

Cena nodded slightly as he moved among the cars in the lot of the bar, finally coming to a black SUV and peeking in. "This one looks like it should hold us okay. May have to sit a couple in the floor, but...better than the smoldering wreck we left."

"That's great," Josh said, looking around, seeming somewhat distracted. "Let's get that one then...hold on a second."

"Okay...you did keep in mind that I can hotwire a car but I'm not exactly the most expert lockpick on earth, right? We shoulda brought Eddie..."

"Just break out a window, we can cover it with a towel or something." Josh had gone over to a red car and crouched behind it, taking a screwdriver from his pocket and starting to detach the license plate.

Cena sighed. "Well hurry up. I don't wanna do that if there's an alarm unless we're ready to go straight away. What are you doing, anyway?"

Josh finished, then got to his feet, coming over and crouching behind the SUV, starting to fiddle around back there. "Once the owner comes out and finds his car gone, he'll call it in to the police. They'll be looking for this plate number on this make of vehicle. What I'm doing is changing it, so even if the police see us driving this, they won't make the connection since the plate is different."

"Won't the guy with the car mention his license plates are gone to the police?"

"Tell me, John, what's your license plate number?"

Cena blinked, tilting his head. "Um...there's like an L or somethin'..."

"Exactly. Most people don't pay a lick of attention to those things. It'll probably be a day or so before he even notices they're gone, and he'll probably write it off as a prank by some teenagers...and even if he does bother to report it to the police, they'll hardly get all in a snit over stolen plates. We should be well outta here by then anyway."

Cena shrugged slightly as Josh came around to the passenger side, carrying the plate. "So we're ready?"

"We're ready," Josh agreed, and Cena winced a little, pulled his arm into his sweater sleeve enough to shield it, making a fist, drawing back, and lashing out with as much force as he could muster. The first punch didn't get the desired effect, but the second cracked the glass and the third smashed it out enough that he could reach in and pull the lock loose, opening the door and brushing the seat as clear as he could, getting in and reaching over to open the door to allow Josh to clamber in. He then kicked at the steering wheel column until a panel broke off, and reached down, fiddling at the wiring until the engine caught, coughed, and finally sparked to life. All the while, there was no sound of an alarm, and no one looked out from the bar, allowing them to make their way out of the parking lot with no problems.

"Of course you realize we're probably all over their security camera," Cena said, wincing at the sudden realization.

"Well, no one came to get us and they won't check those until later tonight. We'll just...have to find another car later," Josh replied, though sounding a little bothered at the awareness.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just go into the bar and say 'Hey, guys, we're on the run from mad scientists, we need your help,' okay never mind, I see the problem with that right now."

"And aside from the fact people would think we were crazy or it was a prank, this area is not safe. Those gun guys are probably still actively hunting us and we're not far enough away yet. Let's get the others and get the hell outta here."

"All right." Cena started down the road towards the overpass where the others were waiting. "So, you guys went to talk to Eddie and Chavo before you came to me?"

"Well, Dave did. I was still kind of too pissed to help in the conversation and frankly, I didn't want to make it any easier on him..."

( )

Josh leaned against the door to the locker room, arms crossed, scowling a little. He'd sent Dave in to talk to Eddie and Chavo alone, promising to guard the door to keep the secret to a minimum. Despite how very much he wanted to shout it from the PA system, send the entire locker room down on the bastard's head, and watch the ensuing assault, he would need to keep Dave intact at least long enough for him to lead them to where Rey was.

He looked up at the sound of talking down the hall, and glanced over, seeing three people...John Morrison, Jeff Hardy, and Beth Phoenix, making their way down the hall. Beth had a clipboard in her hand and was walking between the men, both of whom looked like they'd been run almost haggard by something, as he heard Beth's voice carry down.

"...and Nikki is betting that you've only made it to third. So see, if you've actually bonked without being drunk, then I win the betting pool and if John here is the top, then I win the secondary 'of course they're fucking' pool too. We're talking like $1000 here, guys, and I'd totally give you a cut if you'd just say it."

"Beth...Beth..." Morrison muttered, all of them coming to a stop just a few feet from Josh, as Morrison adjusted his sunglasses. Beth looked up at him and Jeff, who seeming rather bored and just rested his hands in his pockets. "First of all, you girls need new hobbies. Something. Anything. Just, other than betting on our love lives."

"Amen, brother," Jeff drawled, vaguely sleepily.

"Second, no offense meant, Jeff, but I'm as straight as they come, I'm a ladies man, and even if I were gay or bi or whatever, I wouldn't touch this creature with a ten-foot pole, again, no offense Jeff."

"None taken, man, I agree with the sentiment towards you, too. 'Sides, I have a girlfriend."

"Oh come on, Jeff, we all know she's just your beard," Beth muttered. "You guys have been hanging around each other nonstop for weeks now, something has to have happened."

"You've been reading too many of those stories on the Internet, Beth," John said, tossing his hair and fluffing it with one hand. "Jeff's just hanging around me because his brother has gone all doe-eyed lovey over Angie and because Jeff knows he needs a strong masculine influence in his life."

Beth looked at Jeff, who shrugged noncommittally. "Ugh," she scoffed. "Look. Come on, let's be honest here, I know you two are up to something, all right, it's obvious. There's a big difference between the way the two of you hang out and the way, like, say, Rated-Y2J hang out. Yeah, they're buddies and a good tag team, but they aren't like you two."

"Maybe we're just hetero-lifemates," Jeff said with the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, there ya go. He's the Silent Bob, obviously," Morrison smirked. "And I'm Jay, the charismatic leader who's-"

There was a bellow of pure fury from behind the door Josh was leaning against, followed by the sounds of crashing and a brawl. They all froze, eyes wide, but Josh straightened and opened the door, stepping in, and they, obviously shocked, followed after him.

Eddie had Batista on the ground, straddling his chest and flinging punches at him wildly, while Batista covered his head with his arms and Chavo, behind them, was unsuccessfully trying to pry his uncle away. Both Guerreros were yelling in Spanish, too loud and too fast for any of the others to keep up with.

Josh, Jeff and Morrison moved immediately, Jeff and Josh going to help Chavo pull Eddie away and Morrison grabbing Batista just in case he tried to continue the melee, while Beth stepped between them, holding her hands up, glancing back and forth to try and decide who was going to act next. "Calm down, guys!" she said, shaking her head. "This can't be that bad, you testosterone hosers!"

Eddie was visibly seething, pointing at Batista and roaring something unintelligible but obviously threatening. Batista got to his feet slowly, holding his head, wincing a little bit. "I'm sorry..." he muttered, keeping his head down.

"What's going on here?" Morrison asked, glancing over his shoulder at Eddie and Chavo. "What the hell could _you_ guys be fighting about?"

There was a brief silence, marred only by Eddie's savage mumbles of threats. "I don't know if..." Batista started to explain, looking around a little nervously.

"Nooooooo!" Eddie blurted out, shaking his head, glaring. "No, _ese_, you tell them, huh? Why don't you tell them allllllllll about what you just told us, huh? Tell them the truth! They got plenty of right to know!"

"I'm...I'm not sure this isn't some prank, Eddie..." Chavo said softly, looking very troubled, but otherwise apparently not reacting strongly to whatever was happening.

"It's not a prank," Batista murmured, eyes fixed on the ground. "We shouldn't involve them, it's gonna be too dangerous..."

"Involve us in what?" Beth asked, frowning. "What's too dangerous?"

"We shouldn't-,"

"If you don't tell them about Rey, holmes, I will!" Eddie growled.

"What?" Jeff said, looking back at Eddie. "Rey? What about Rey?"

"We shouldn't tell them!" Batista said. "It's gonna be dangerous and who knows what could happen to them?"

"Okay, somebody better start talking or my feet are gonna start kicking," Morrison said, scowling. "I don't like getting left out of loops when I've just thrown myself between a fight."

There was another brief silence, save for Eddie's furious muttering. Finally, Batista sighed, rubbing his head and stepping back a little. "If I tell you guys about this, you could be in major trouble. I mean, we all could be. Us and everyone we care about. It's too dangerous. If it...if I could avoid this, I-,"

"Whatever it is, you're gonna tell us." Morrison glanced around. "It looks like we're gonna be involved now anyway. I know I'm not gonna just walk out and pretend I didn't know something was going on that was bad enough to have you two beating on each other."

"And involving...Rey?" Jeff asked, looking a touch confused.

Batista sighed, looking to Beth.

"Start talking, mammoth. I'm in this too."

Batista nodded slowly, going over to sit on a bench, rubbing his temples. "Okay. This is going to be hard to believe, but...just stay with me."

( )

Cena nodded some, navigating a turn as he did. "So...then you guys came to me?"

"Yeah. Once everyone calmed down a bit, Eddie said we could use your help. You know, the strongest, toughest guy on the roster and all."

"I wouldn't go that far-,"

"You picked up like, 800 pounds at Wrestlemania and were fully prepared to throw it around. I'd go that far. Plus you're about the only guy we knew for sure wasn't going to be, like...you know, a double agent or something. And you were the only guy we have who could punch out a car window. And-,"

"Okay, I get it, I get it, I'm Superman, got it, damn." Cena winced, turning again. "Where'd we leave the others?"

"Two more streets up and then you should be able to see the bridge."

Cena nodded, driving in silence, finally seeing the bridge and heading in that direction. "So, what do we do after this?"

Josh shook his head a little as they pulled up next to the other van, making a face at the number of bullet holes they could see. "I don't know. We need to get away from this area though." He hopped out of his seat and went to the door of the van, where Morrison met him, pulling it open. "We've got new wheels, let's go."

"Please tell me it's heated..." Morrison said, hopping out, pulling Jeff out with him. "That broken window ain't doing shit for us."

"Yeah...Cena, crank up the heater in that thing," Josh said, as the others crawled out. Eddie was still carrying Rey, who, though his eyes were open, didn't look as though he were altogether conscious. "Is he okay?"

"No..." Batista said. "They drugged him and he's gonna be woozy until it wears off. And even at that...we're gonna have to be careful with him. The stuff he's been through, he's not...not gonna be able to keep up with us. He's gonna get freaked out easy."

"We'll take care of him," Eddie muttered. "We should go find a place to rest, get something to eat, regroup. Then we can figure out our next step, how we're gonna fix this."

Batista nodded, picking up the wad of papers he'd been keeping in the van. "Good idea. It'll give me time to go through these notes and reports Marcia..." He stopped a moment, studying the papers, then shook his head slowly. "All right, let's go. We need to get the hell out of here before someone finds us."

The others loaded into the SUV, Eddie holding onto Rey and Beth, under heavy protest, sitting in Batista's lap so they could all fit, and Cena put it into reverse and pulled back onto the highway, heading down it. "At least it's got most of a full tank of gas," he said. "I'll go till I find a town and I'll pull into the first motel I see. Then we can order in some food or send someone out to go pick something up. Best way to keep our heads down. You guys just relax and I'll take care of the driving."

"Sounds good, ese," Eddie said, hugging Rey closer and closing his eyes. "Very good..."


	6. Chapter 6

Cena walked to the motel door and kicked at it lightly...his arms were full of cans of soda and bottles of water from the vending machines at the end of the corridor. After a second, there was a sound of locks clicking, and Chavo opened the door, letting him inside, then immediately closing and locking it again.

After an hour of driving, they had happened across some small town called Pembroke and a tiny, one-story Travellers Inn motel, which Cena headed for and, while the others waited in the stolen SUV, he'd gone in and made arrangements for two adjoining rooms. The fact that he could see a small Wal-Mart from the parking lot, and had driven past a car rental place on the way in only sweetened the deal, as it made it easier for them to ditch the stolen ride and acquire supplies before making their next move. After dropping the others off, Josh headed back down the street and left the van a short distance away, then walked to the rental place and gotten a large, 10-seater van, returning to have it waiting for them whenever they were ready to move on.

While he'd been doing that, Cena and Johnny, temporarily borrowing Jeff's shirt to wear under his coat, had headed to the Wal-Mart to gather up supplies for them...changes of clothes, duffels and travel bags to keep them in, food, some cheap cell phones-since none of them had any-and first aid supplies. The hotel rooms had small kitchenettes, so they would be able to cook something for tonight. There were a few restaurants around, but they were closed at this time of night, and at any rate, they were all too exhausted and frankly didn't feel up to dealing with any potential discovery through any fans that might happen across them.

Jeff and Beth had finished cooking some TV dinners and microwave meals about the same time Josh had made it back with the new van, and they had all settled in to eat.

"Okay, here ya go, guys," he said, handing out the drinks. For the time being, they were all grouped into this room, even though the door to the next room was standing open at the back. Rey, still somewhat dazed, but functional enough by now to be able to eat on his own, was sitting in the middle of one bed, while Eddie sat next to him, keeping a hand on his shoulder as though for constant reassurance of the smaller man's solidity. Chavo made his way back from the door and sat down on the other side, the two of them rather like sentinels in their posture and location. Beth and Josh were sitting next to each other on the other bed, leaning against the headboard, while Jeff was sprawled across the end of the bed, and Morrison was sitting on the floor between the beds, leaning against the side of one with his feet propped on the other, working on activating and adding minutes to all the cell phones, handing them out as he did. Batista was sitting at a small round table near the bathroom, sorting through the bundle of papers, silently arranging them into order. He only barely looked up when Cena handed over an orange drink, murmuring a wordless thanks, a bowl of macaroni sitting almost forgotten next to him.

"Where do we go from here?" Beth asked finally, through a mouthful of chicken nugget.

"Well..." Cena sighed, leaning against the wall and opening his soda, gulping down about half of it in a couple of swallows. "For whatever reason they put their base in Canada...we're stuck here since we bailed out of the Raw taping without any of our stuff or paperwork-,"

"It was to hide..." Batista muttered, holding up a page.

"What? To hide?" Cena came over, taking the page and looking it over.

"Yeah. Whatever branch of the government it was knew they couldn't effectively hide stolen citizens on U.S. soil without heavy risk." He sighed, the next thing he said sounding rather like he'd heard it several times and was repeating it from memory rather than forming the thoughts himself. "Putting everything up here in the Canadian woods was to help minimize potential exposure and to be able to deny it in case somehow things were found out. They'd be able to try and say America had nothing to do with it, obviously it was the Canadian government, blah blah. Plus a degree of security with a situation like our's...not being able to get the citizens back across the border without their papers."

"Not in that many words, but yeah, that's what this says. 'Plausible deniability, isolation,' et cetera, so forth, so on." He handed the paper back to Batista, who went back to shuffling through the pages.

"This is why I don't vote," Josh muttered, shaking his head.

"You don't vote because you're a convicted felon," Eddie responded, taking a forkful of noodles from a bowl that he and Rey were splitting, looking on as Rey listlessly chewed at some.

Josh shrugged slightly, ignoring the curious looks from Morrison and Beth.

"The point he was making remains valid," Morrison finally said, lowering his head and brushing his hair back some, staring at the rice bowl he was working on. "Whatever government agency it is that's doing this is fucking us over."

"And royal," Cena said, shaking his head some. "Our best bet is going to be taking Rey and all those documents straight to the media. Blow the thing wide open, make everyone see what's there. Whoever's behind this won't dare touch us then."

Chavo nodded some. "A huge scandal like that, there's no way people won't cover it. We don't necessarily have to get back to the States to do it, we can call someone here and arrange it."

"What if they don't believe us?" Morrison asked. "If I worked for the press and someone called me claiming to be say, John Cena or Eddie Guerrero and ranting about the government kidnapping people who are dead except they're not dead, I couldn't hang up on them fast enough."

Chavo made a face, half-shrugging. "That would be the problem with something this out of the ordinary, I suppose."

"Then we'll bring them here some other way, or go to them, do something to draw their attention, then bombshell them." Cena nodded. "Bring down the whole thing."

The others were silent, but there was a tacit agreement that hung in the air from that statement. After a bit, though, Jeff, voice weary and muffled through the blankets, spoke up.

"I'm tired."

"Well, we're settled in real good...got some food in us," Cena said, straightening.

Beth rolled her eyes slightly. "Well, being the only chick, I'll take the couch in the next room. You burly men can argue over who's spooning who tonight." She hopped to her feet and reached back to unfasten her ring outfit and leave the shirt half hanging loose around her waist, wearing only a black bra. "What bag are the sleep clothes in?"

"Uh, those..." Josh stammered, looking down and covering his eyes as the others quickly took care to look elsewhere.

"Oh, grow up. Like you haven't all seen me in less clothes than this and like I can't go on the Internet and find pictures of all of you naked." She pulled out a green flannel nightgown, raising an eyebrow at it as she looked at Morrison. "This is what you guys picked out for me?"

"Hey, Cena picked it out. I was going to get you the Tweety Bird two-piece."

"Ugh. Well, Cena called it right because I'd rather wear this granny gown than anything with that son of a bitch bird on it." She stood and headed for the back room. "I'm getting a shower before bed. Someone leave me a blanket on the couch." She vanished through the door and into the bathroom, and they quite audibly heard the lock click.

Cena smirked faintly. "Told ya."

"Oh shut up." Morrison grunted and crawled to his feet, pulling Jeff up with him. "Jeff and I will split a bed. In fact, we're gonna go do so right now. The rest of you argue it out for yourselves." He and Jeff pulled a couple of sets of pajama bottoms out of the bags, and without a word headed into the other room to settle in.

After a while, they had all settled into their respective spots. Eddie and Rey in one bed, Chavo and Josh in another, and Cena and Batista deciding to take turns being on guard for the night, just in case. Batista finished putting away the papers into a small portable safe Cena had picked up for keeping the documentation safe, and he was curled up in bed while Cena settled into the chair to start pulling tags off the clothes and shoes and packing them into individual bags for everyone to be able to carry.

( )

The bedside alarm clock's lights said 2:27. In the A.M., obviously. And yet Morrison heard a soft voice in the dark.

"Jeff? Hey...Jeff?"

"He's asleep, Chavo," Morrison whispered. "And right now I'd prefer to leave him that way."

There was a moment of silence, and finally, Chavo whispered back to him.

"He's not holding up real well, is he?"

"I don't think any of us are holding up real well right now, Chavo. I mean, seriously."

"Not really what I meant." There was another long silence. "I mean...he's worrying about his brother, isn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

Chavo sighed softly, and Morrison heard the faint shift of the bed in the darkness. "Matt and Angie. And now...now we have Rey and...we're bringing him back. I mean...we're bringing Angie's husband back from the dead, basically. And she and Matt have been really serious for a while now."

There was yet another long silence. Finally, Morrison answered. "Yeah. He's been thinking about it."

"Maybe he shouldn't come with us...maybe we should...I don't know...send him back."

"Why exactly would we send him back, Chavo?" Morrison's voice had a faint edge to it.

"It's not anything bad. It's just that, well...Jeff and Matt are very loyal to each other..."

"What? You think he's gonna try and do something? Maybe fix it so that Rey stays dead or something? He'll be frantic to keep his big brother happy? What exactly are you implying, Guerrero?" There was a creak that seemed much louder than it was as Morrison sat up in the bed, and Chavo could see his vague silhouette against the window.

"I'm not implying something like that, John," Chavo said, sitting up as well. "But Jeff's gonna have more conflicting emotions about this than the rest of us..."

"So what? He's here, isn't he? He jumped at the call to action same as you and me and Beth, and he stole a damn chainsaw from the back of a production truck on the way. Don't you think he could've put a stop to us already with that fucking thing if he'd wanted to? Jeff's not like that, Chavo. He's upset about this, yes, and he's upset that what he's doing, he knows is going to tear his family to pieces. But he's here and he's doing it because it's the right thing to do, so you take your little accusations and you go fuck yourself with them!"

"I wasn't accusing anyone of anything!"

"Well then maybe you need to shut your damn mouth!"

"Maybe you both need to shut your damn mouths because people are trying to sleep in here," Josh's annoyed voice broke in from the other side of Chavo's bed.

"Seconded with great prejudice and an vague notion of fingernails to the scrotums if I get woken up again," came Beth's voice from the vicinity of the couch.

There was a moment of silence, and then Morrison and Chavo both scooted back under their respective covers and got comfortable, no more words exchanged for the time being. As they fell into quiet, though, Morrison felt a hand reaching down, taking hold of his, and he squeezed it lightly. Jeff scooted a little closer, and Morrison squeezed his hand again, knowing that would be enough for now, and they both were asleep again in minutes.

( )

Cena leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the table, admiring the new sneakers he'd picked out. Obviously he wasn't able to get his usual high-tops from a small-town Wal-Mart, but there were still some pretty decent choices there.

Eddie and Rey were all but cuddled together in the bed furtherest from the door, but he could tell Rey's sleep was fitful. He whimpered once in a while and shifted and flailed often. Every time he wriggled and squirmed, Eddie opened his eyes some, but he just held Rey a little closer until he settled back down, then Eddie was back to sleep with him.

Batista was in the other bed, and dozing, but he didn't seem to be having a particularly restful sleep either. Cena tapped his chin slightly, turning his head when there was a sound from the back room like angry whispers, but it all stopped quickly enough, so he figured it was just the others talking.

It was probably getting pretty late, and as much as things had been keeping them all running and in states of high stress, he knew he probably should wake Dave up anyway and take his turn at sleeping, but he wasn't really tired. He wasn't sure if it was just adrenaline still in his system, or if he was just too keyed up. Maybe just a little exercise would help.

Cena got to his feet, moving as quietly as he could to the door, and slipped outside. He hissed involuntarily at the bitter cold of the Canadian night, but just gritted his teeth against it, moving down a couple of doors before putting a foot against the wall and starting to try and stretch out a little. He figured he'd do a few quick power lunges, sprints, whatever it took, get the last little bit of energy used up before he went back in and kicked Batista out of the bed.

After a few runs up and down the sidewalk outside the hotel, Cena was breathing a little quicker, so he turned to stretch again, working on slowing himself down, getting back to a normal rate. His throat felt a little dry from the chill, so he was trying to hurry along, but he knew he couldn't rush his cooldown, regardless-

"Excuse me, young man?"

Cena blinked and swirled around quickly, and there was a borderline elderly man standing there. Something about him reminded Cena of pictures he'd seen of Albert Einstein, if he were wearing steel-framed glasses. Well, not necessarily Einstein. Freud, maybe? Cena wasn't certain, but the guy's appearance was definitely in the realm of some sort of famous scientist or psychologist or something like that he'd seen before. He was in slacks, a vest, and a heavy black dress coat, his longish gray hair frazzled and blowing in the wind.

"Uh...help you, mister?" Cena said hesitantly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I didn't want to bother you, but I'm having some problems with my car around the other side," he said, a smile of faint embarrassment on his face. "I have a flat tire and I'm afraid I can't get the spare on, I'm not quite able to get the lugnuts off. You seem strong, do you think I could bother you to help me?"

Cena shifted his gaze to the door of the hotel room a minute, but a sweep of the parking lot revealed nothing. Their van and a green car at the other end, probably belonging to the desk clerk, were the only vehicles there. He nodded, shrugging a bit and immediately flashing a friendly grin. "Sure thing, buddy, I can take care of that for you. Where's it at?"

"Just around here, in the back," the man said, turning and starting around the building, towards the parking lot that connected with the Wal-Mart. Cena shrugged and followed after him, figuring that changing a tire would be just what he'd need to get him nice and tired before bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Morrison grunted slightly, blinking his eyes open a little blearily, then stretched and yawned, scratching at his head. He heard a faint mumbling nearby, and glanced over to see Jeff and Beth were already awake and dressed in jeans and similar flannel shirts...purple and blue for Jeff and white and gray with a hint of sparkle in the fabric for Beth...and were working on microwaving something that smelled faintly of bacon, talking quietly as they did. When Morrison moved to sit up, they looked over to him.

"Hey..." he murmured, brushing his hair back, then rubbing his face some, trying to finish waking up.

"Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Josh's voice said, and Morrison glanced over at the other bed to see him sitting at the end in khakis and a green sweater, sipping a bottle of soda while he was jamming his feet into a pair of black boots. "Glad you could join us."

"What time is it?" Morrison asked, as Jeff came over and set a duffel bag on the bed next to him.

"It's almost ten. I peeked in the next room and they're all still asleep, so we're just getting cleaned up and dressed." Jeff tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom door. "Chavo's probably almost done."

As if on cue, the door came open, and Chavo came out, wearing a pair of black slacks and carrying a white button-up shirt in one hand, rubbing at his head with a towel. "There's still plenty of towels and all," he said, going over to the bed, keeping from directly meeting Morrison's gaze as he went to the other bed, dropping the towel down and starting to pull on the shirt.

"Mmph." Morrison got to his feet, digging in the bag Jeff had given him and taking out a pair of jeans and another flannel shirt, this one a more classic red and black color. He wrinkled his nose, but draped it over his arm anyway. "This is what I get for letting Cena pick out the clothes."

"As long as it's warm and it holds up until we can find a media outlet to get here," Jeff said, opening the microwave and taking out four of what looked like breakfast burritos. "First batch is up. Hurry and get your shower."

Morrison nodded, walking over, patting Jeff on the shoulder once as he went by, then went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, only to open it a second later and whip a handful of dirty towels and washrags out, muttering something about a mildew smell, before shutting the door again.

Beth snorted some, starting to unwrap more of the burritos to start them cooking. "Do you think we should wake the others up or just let them sleep? I mean, we should probably move soon, before the whole world starts crapping it's pants. Surely to God someone noticed an entire building exploding, even out in the middle of the woods."

"Give them a few more minutes, then we can-,"

"NOOOOO!"

They stared at each other at the scream, Rey's voice screaming, then rushed to the door, shoving it open and almost stumbling over each other in their rush to get through. "What is it? What's happening?"

There was a loud thud, and they saw Batista jumping up from where he'd just fallen out of bed, eyes bulging. "What? Rey? Rey, are you all right?"

"What's happening?" another voice broke in, and Morrison pushed his way in, dripping wet, hair hanging in clumps around his face, only barely clutching a towel strategically in front of him. "Are we getting attacked again?"

"Calm down, calm down," Eddie's voice broke through the din, and they looked over to see him sitting up, hugging Rey close, despite the smaller man's struggling and squirming. He wasn't even addressing them. "Calm down, Rey, it's okay. It's over."

"No, no no no, he's here, he's here, he's going to hurt me, I saw him, I saw him!" Rey wailed, trying to push away from Eddie, obviously still in a panic. "Kane's here, he's here! He's in here! He's coming to get me!"

"Shhhhh..." Eddie hugged him close, rubbing his arm reassuringly. "No one is out there, Rey. No one's coming to get you. You're safe now, you're safe, I won't let anyone hurt you." He looked up, finally noticing all the others standing and staring, and gestured vaguely at them. "It's okay. He'll be fine."

"It's not a nightmare! It's real...it's real, Eddie, it's real, he's going to get me!" Rey sobbed, clutching at Eddie, burying his face in the other man's shoulder. "Please don't let him get me, please, please..."

"No one will get you, Rey, I won't let them." Eddie rocked him slightly, rubbing his back, even as Rey continued to cry that he was in danger from Kane.

"God...he's a mess, isn't he?" Morrison said softly, watching.

Batista sighed and nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose slightly. "Yeah. It's just gonna get worse."

"What do you mean, gonna get worse?" Josh asked, narrowing his eyes.

Batista shook his head, looking over. "The things they've done to him...they erased a lot, managed to scrub it from his conscious mind. But...they implanted a lot too...and none of the techniques are even close to perfect. So there's a lot of things in his subconscious, a lot of images and memories, stuff like that. They had tactics at the hospital to kind of keep all that under control from experiment to experiment, but out here without the doctors and scientists and psychologists constantly monitoring things..."

"He's just going to steadily get crazier?" Chavo finished.

"That's not exactly the phrasing I was going to use...but he is going to have trouble keeping his focus and...staying rational."

There was silence from the others, until Beth looked around, raising an eyebrow at Morrison as he abruptly realized where he was and quickly wrapped the towel around himself more completely, blushing faintly. She glanced around as Eddie soothed Rey, then over to the others. Finally, she spoke.

"Where the hell is John?"

"I'm right here. You were just gawking at my package," Morrison sniffed, turning to head back into the other room to retrieve his clothes.

"Not you, you idiot. Cena. Where is he?"

"He was supposed to be on guard," Batista said, standing from the bed. "He was gonna wake me up to take the rest of the night at some point..."

"Maybe he just went to get another coke or something," Jeff said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'll go check," Batista said, stepping over and picking up a shirt, starting to tug it on. "And chew his ass out for trying to play superhero and stay awake all night like he can do everything." He shouldered on a coat as well, taking hold of the door and pushing it open-

_**BANG!**_

"Motherfucker!" Batista grunted, stumbling and falling backwards as a bullet hole appeared in the door just to the left of his head. He kicked the door shut at another shot, which slammed through the wood and into the wall near the bed.

"It's Kane! It's Kane, he's here, he's here!" Rey shrieked.

"What's going on?" Morrison called from the back room, as Batista crawled back to his feet, moving towards the window and peeking out.

"Son of a bitch, it's Krugman," Batista grumbled.

"Who's Krugman?" Beth asked, coming over to look from the other side.

Batista pointed to a man in the parking lot, near a green car, with wild hair and thick glasses, who was adjusting the grip he had on a pistol. "Walter Krugman, the lead psychiatrist in the study," Batista said. "Also apparently has had some experience in shooting."

"Why is he shooting at us?" Chavo asked, as Morrison stumbled back in, hair still dripping but fully dressed otherwise, buttoning up the plaid shirt.

"I'm not sure, but I'm not opening the door again to find out." Batista turned, gesturing. "Eddie, get Rey ready to go, I'm going to go check out the other door. Maybe we can run out that way." He pushed past the others, moving towards the back.

Jeff chewed his lip slightly as Eddie slipped out of bed, pulling Rey along. Then Jeff moved forward towards the door.

"Jeff, what are you doing?" Morrison hissed, reaching out to grab his arm.

"Hang on," Jeff said, pulling away. "Stay back." He took a deep breath, gripping the door, then pulling it open, staying back out of the way. After a moment, when there was no shot, he inched closer and peeked around the corner, towards the man Batista identified as Krugman.

"Hello there," the man said politely, still aiming the gun but not shooting. "You're Jeff Hardy. I have a file on you."

"What do you want?" Jeff yelled back.

"It's less what I want and more what my boss wants, and that is to salvage whatever we can of our study. So I've come to collect Rey and bring him along to our next position, and presumably to insure you and the rest of your band's silence."

"And how are you planning to go about doing that?" Jeff called, keeping as much behind the door as he could.

"In your case, I was going to mention knowing where your family is and making some sort of threat against them. For some of the others, I'm afraid just killing them is the only option I have."

Jeff snarled. "You stay away from my family!" he yelled, but Morrison yanked him back and slammed the door shut again.

"Come on, guys, we need to get the hell out of here," Batista hissed, coming back in. "We've got a clear shot through the backdoor, we can be gone before he realizes anything's happened."

"But what about Cena? We still don't know where he is!" Jeff protested.

Batista gritted his teeth. "I don't know...maybe he..."

The room phone rang, causing them all to jump, then stare at it. Finally, after a second and third ring, Josh stepped over and pushed the button for the speakerphone.

"I hate to bring this up," Krugman's voice came through, still as unfailingly polite as before. "But I do have something else that you might like to know about."

"Fuck you, you fucking thug wannabes!" a familiar voice screamed in the background of the call. "Just wait till I get up from here!"

"John..." Beth said softly, biting her lip. "How did they...?"

"Forget me, take Rey out of here, don't give these bastards anything!" Cena yelled, before his voice seemed to choke off.

"He's here, of course," Krugman's voice continued, completely composed. "We have a couple of my compatriots waiting to see if he can be...talked into giving up his crusade against us. As so."

There was a moment of silence, then a faint sound arose, like that of a faint grunt. It quickly rose to a steady growl, and finally, unbidden, Cena let out a short yelp of pain, though his suddenly heavier breathing and a strain in his voice when he yelled again told them he was holding back his shouts as much as possible.

"Goddamnit, take Rey away from here, take him away from here now, get out of here!"

Krugman's voice broke in over the sound. "The option is your's, of course. Batista, you and Rey will need to return to us, and your friends will all have to agree to a very simple procedure to ensure that none of you can recall or do anything to interfere in our experiments again. Beyond that, there will be no more harm done."

Cena called out again, the pain more evident as his voice cracked when he spoke. "Don't any of you fucking dare, don't you-," His words cut off in a shrill scream of pain, accompanied by a faint buzzing sound of something vaguely electrical.

"Stop hurting him!" Beth shouted.

"I would love to, madam, as despite what you might have heard, I do not particularly enjoy hurting people; however, I'm going to need you all to-,"

Batista bared his teeth, then lashed out, hitting the button to disconnect the phone. "Eddie, is Rey ready?"

Eddie nodded some, standing against the furthest wall, having already dressed himself and just finishing helping Rey shrug into his jacket. The smaller man's face was etched with fear, as he glanced between the phone and the door, and as soon as the jacket was on, turned to cling to Eddie, looking for all the world like a frightened child grabbing for his parent. "He's ready..."

"All right, grab the bags, we're bolting."

"Wait! We can't just leave Cena behind!" Jeff said.

"I don't want to leave him behind either but what other option do we have? Obviously Krugman's not alone, and if we wait too long in here, he'll just send in whatever goons he has to flush us out!"

Jeff shook his head stubbornly. "We can't leave him! I don't care what he said!"

"I'm with him," Morrison said. "If we leave Cena with those freaks, they'll kill him. I won't have that karma on my head."

Batista looked at the two of them and sighed, then glanced over at Eddie. "What do you think?"

Eddie tilted his head somewhat, then looked down at Rey, who looked up at him. After a moment, Rey nodded, and Eddie looked back up. "We gotta get John back first. These folks have definitely proven they're willing to kill anyone that crosses them."

Batista blew out a breath. "Okay, but we're hedging our bets." He strode over to the table and picked up the bundle of papers, stuffing them into a duffel bag. "Half of us take Rey and the files away to safety, half of us will rescue Cena."

"Chavo and I can get Rey to safety ourselves," Eddie said, nodding. "The rest of you better work on getting Cena."

Batista nodded, glancing around. "All right. Get going quick. We'll call you once we're clear and we'll all meet up as soon as we can."

Eddie nodded, looking to Chavo, who stepped in and picked up a couple of the bags, slinging them over his shoulders, and Eddie took hold of Rey's hand, pulling him along. The three of them hurried into the back room, where Eddie opened the door and peeked around before leading Rey and Chavo out, and they hurried out quickly. Morrison went over to watch through the door as they crossed to the Wal-Mart parking lot, hesitating only a moment before starting around behind the Wal-Mart to a back road to start making their way down it. As soon as they were out of sight, he shut the door and nodded. "Okay, they're clear."

Batista nodded, sending up a silent prayer to keep them safe until they could all get back together, then turned to the others. "All right. We need a plan. They've got at least one gun, and all we have is our wits and what's in this room."

Josh cleared his throat, then stood from the bed where he'd been sitting and listening. "I have a plan..."

( )

Cena grunted and struggled from the seat he was tied into, trying his best to break the thick leather belts buckled around him. The damn thing was apparently welded into the wall and floor of the van, and no matter how furiously he tried, he couldn't break it loose.

Thinking of how he'd gotten into this pickle just pissed him off worse. The kindly little old man who he'd gone to help with a tire instead stuck a needle in his neck the instant his back was turned, and the next thing he knew, a couple of muscleheads with gray outfits had brought him into the back of a black van and strapped him into this chair. Whatever the little bastard scientist had injected him with, it had been enough to stop him from putting up any kind of fight. He was feeling his strength coming back, but it wasn't quite enough to free himself.

The scientist guy, one of the two goons had referred to him as "Dr. Krugman," was now outside the van on a phone, wielding a gun. The door was open just enough for Cena to hear him basically taunting the others, and he'd tried to warn them away. Instead, the asshole on his left had stuck him with a cattle prod a few times. A goddamn cattle prod, of all things!

"When I get out of here, I'm going to snap your neck..." Cena growled at him, as Krugman, outside the van, closed the phone and stepped back into the van.

"Well, that's that, then," the doctor said. "Start the van, we'd better get moving."

"Get moving? I thought you were here to steal Rey back," Cena said, arching his back against the chair again, flexing one arm as hard as he could in an attempt to break the straps again.

"Oh, I am, my friend, I am. But I can't pass up the chance to make a quick note on some behavioral studies here. Your friends are a unique subset of humanity, and I have a hypothesis that they're going to come after you regardless of the danger I might pose to Rey's safety. I suspect if they think I'm going to try and make my leave with you, they will react most rashly." He drummed a finger on his chin, then turned and opened what looked like a toolbox at his feet, taking out a bottle and a syringe. He injected the needle through the bottle top and began to withdraw a thick red liquid, as one goon started the van. "It would be fascinating to be proven wrong, yet I don't think I will be..."

Cena struggled harder, but couldn't prevent the sharp pain as the liquid was injected into his bicep. "I'm going to snap your neck too..." Cena gasped out.

Krugman smiled faintly, even as Cena felt his vision beginning to dip and spin. "I suppose we'll see soon..."


	8. Chapter 8

Eddie grunted a little as he glanced around, then pulled Rey across the street behind him, following Chavo, who was beelining for a Burger King that had just opened. It wasn't Eddie's first choice, but he guessed it would do for now. When they reached the door, Chavo stopped and held it open for them, and Eddie and Rey hurried through, trying to catch their breath. Eddie glanced to his nephew, and spoke to him in Spanish, hoping it would help mask what they were up to. "(Is this far enough?)" he asked, pulling Rey in and fixing an arm around his shoulders to keep him nearby.

Chavo responded in kind. "(We're like, five blocks away. Even if they know we ran, they surely can't pinpoint this spot.)"

"(We won't attract too much attention, will we?)"

Chavo raised his eyebrows. "(Three world-famous Mexican wrestlers, one of whom is supposed to be dead and two of whom are AWOL from WWE, in the middle of a Canadian Burger King, out of breath from running up the street and carrying huge bags along with them? Oh and we're speaking completely the wrong language for this country. Oh no, we're perfectly fine, Eddie.)"

"(Right. Into the bathroom then.)" Eddie pulled Rey with him and headed for the men's restroom, making a note that fortunately, none of the jaded restaurant workers really seemed to be paying them much mind, and went to the handicap stall inside, waiting on Chavo to follow and come into the enlarged stall with him before pulling the door shut and locking it.

"(This is not how I thought I'd be spending today,)" Chavo said, leaning against the wall, putting one bag down and sliding down to sit on it, cramming himself into the corner of the stall.

"(It's just until the others save Cena and call us. We'll tell them to come pick us up and we can get on our way.)" Eddie took the other bag and scooted it over, sitting Rey down on it, then scooching over to sit next to him. "(You okay, Rey-Rey?)"

Rey nodded slowly, staring at the floor. "(They're not gonna let us get away from Hell, Eddie...)" he murmured softly. "(They're not going to let me out. You shouldn't have come...)"

"(Rey...you're out now,)" Eddie said. "(You're away from those monsters and they're not going to hurt you anymore.)"

Rey shook his head slowly. "(They'll hurt all of you if you keep fighting them, Eddie. I'm the one they want, they're calling for me. I heard him calling for me. And Kane...Kane'll get involved soon and you can't stop him.)"

"(I've fought Kane before and I've beaten him before. I'm not scared of him, and you don't have to be anymore, either.)" Eddie hugged him tightly. "(We just wait here until the others get done and come pick us up, and then we're moving on. Okay?)"

Rey didn't respond, but he leaned against Eddie, sighing softly. Eddie held onto him, looking over at Chavo, who squirmed a bit to get comfortable, then leaned back against the tiled wall silently. Eddie got comfortable as well, digging his new cell phone out of his pocket and looking at the time, wincing a little and putting it back in.

"(If we don't hear from them in an hour, we'll start trying to figure out something else, okay?)"

Chavo nodded in agreement. "(If they don't call us by then...we'll have to assume the worst.)"

( )

The black van was pulling around the side of the hotel, as though moving towards the back parking lot. The large man driving it was focused forward, while his counterpart and Dr. Krugman were in the back with the guy they'd snatched. Krugman had said the other ones in the group were going to try and rescue their friend, so he was trying to keep an eye out to see what was happening.

He could hear the doctor in the back, muttering something over and over in a low voice to their prisoner, who looked completely out of it. Krugman had pumped him full of the fluid he'd seen used on so many of the patients back at the hospital, and even though he wasn't quite sure what it did, it obviously had a major effect very quickly. When he glanced back at the captive, big and obviously powerful as he was, he already seemed as helpless as a baby, head lolling down against his chest except when Krugman grabbed hold of his chin and met his eyes to keep speaking to him. ...well, "met his eyes" maybe wasn't the right phrase, considering that the guy's eyes were rolling around in his head as though they weren't connected to anything, sometimes actually seeming to be looking somewhere but as often as not, vanishing back into his head.

He turned his gaze back to the driving, but just in time to see what looked like a chair fly down from the roof of the hotel and smash into the windshield, sending a spiderweb of cracks through it.

"Son of a bitch!" he snarled, slamming on the brakes. "I think they're attacking us."

"I knew they would..." Krugman said from behind. "Just keep going, you can still see through the windshield just fine."

He didn't, though, see what happened next coming, when there was a sudden loud crash, a denting inwards, and an cursing exclamation of pain from the roof of the van. The driver instinctively slammed the van into park as it happened. "What the fuck was that?" he grunted, starting to look backwards at the impression that had appeared in the roof-but as he did, the window beside his head smashed in, and he felt large hands grabbing him and dragging him through the window. That was the last thing he was aware of.

Batista looked up from the unconscious fellow, nodding to Josh, who was holding a leg from the bed he'd used to break out the window. He glanced up to see Jeff starting to scrape himself off the roof of the van...from where he'd landed after jumping off the roof of the hotel. "You okay, Jeff? You didn't have to go that far..."

"Nuh-uh..." Jeff muttered, sitting up and holding his side. "They didn't want to stop for the chair, so I improvised...shit that hurt..."

Morrison and Beth moved quickly to the back of the van, grabbing the doors and yanking them open, moving rapidly out of the way as a pair of gunshots rang out through the open door, but then went silent again. After another second, the second man, a veritable giant in a gray uniform, his black hair shaggy and hanging long into his dark blue eyes, stepped forward, staying just inside the back of the van, brandishing a metal rod. "All right," he said. "You best stay back. We got plenty of time and ammo in here to deal with all of you so just back off now!"

"Just give us our friend back and we'll leave you in peace," Josh said, coming around behind Morrison as Batista came around to flank Beth.

"You don't have anything to threaten us with, we have all the bargaining here!" the man said, leaning forward-just enough for Jeff, still sitting on top of the van, to lash down with one foot and kick him in the head. The man grunted, but grabbed as Jeff kicked again, getting hold of his leg and yanking him down, catching him in a half nelson and managing to pull both of Jeff's arms behind his back, gripping them with one arm and using the other to hang onto his hair, holding him at the back of the van so that his feet dangled off the ground even as he struggled to free himself.

"Let him go!" Morrison shouted, starting to move forward, but stopping when the man wrenched at Jeff's arms, making him squeal in pain.

"It's real simple here, folks..." the man growled. "Back the fuck off or both of your little buddies are gonna get broke."

Krugman joined the henchman at the door, holding the pistol carefully. "I don't think we have space for two in here, Alexander."

"Too bad..." The man smirked. "This one's prettier than the other one."

"And here I'd thought we'd rehabilitated you of those thoughts," Krugman mused quietly.

"Fuck you both!" Jeff spat, kicking and trying to work free.

"Just let him go, man," Morrison said, starting to step around the van's door, holding up both hands. "Just let him go, you don't need him, you've got the weapons, we don't. Put him down, we'll back off."

"Not without Cena, we won't!" Beth said. "Let them both go!"

Krugman aimed the pistol for Morrison, who froze, staring between it and Jeff, but holding his ground. "Hmm. We are all in a bit of a quandary then, aren't we? I am going to need to wipe all your minds at the very least, and yet the way you are pushing to hold onto what you have may be forcing my hand into a direction I am loathe to go."

"It's only a matter of time before someone calls the police to get involved in this and then you won't be able to hide what's going on anymore!" Batista shot back.

There was a moment of silence, and then, in a slightly bemused voice, Krugman responded. "You realize I could simply hold you at bay indefinitely with the threat of harm to your friends. And you also assume the police here would take your side of things. After all, we had to go to a great deal of effort to ensure our activities in this area would go unnoticed."

"You're lying! You couldn't have gotten to every police station within 100 miles or whatever you're trying to imply!"

"And why not? You've seen firsthand the enormous scale of what we were doing. We had three thousand subjects in the hospital, all in various states of experimentation, a perfect random cross-section of Americans. Do you think we would have gone through all the trouble to travel all over the country, faking deaths and taking away our subjects to bring here for our science, and not be absolutely certain to avoid any chance of being discovered by some wayward police officer?"

"Three _thousand_?" Josh gasped out loud.

"Of course. We worked round numbers. Estimated 300 million American citizens and used some very extensive notes and computations to take approximately every one hundred-thousandth person from an alphabetical list. A nearly flawless random assortment. If any of you had been a few spaces shy of where you were, it would have very easily been you there instead of Mr. Mysterio or any of the others." Krugman considered a moment, then chuckled almost merrily. "Mr. Mysterio himself wasn't originally part of the list, but...the gentleman ahead of him had already been killed in an accident before we could bring him in. We went to the next name and..." he chuckled again. "A practical celebrity. He was probably our most famous subject. Some of our workers actually tried to rebel over him. Amazing, the effects that fame can have...they didn't bat an eye over the other 2,999 human beings we took away, and that includes the children we had, but for him..."

"You're a sick son of a bitch," Batista said in a low voice. "You and everyone who willingly participated in this godawful event."

"That would include you, to a certain degree, my friend," Krugman continued. "All right, Alexander, put the young man down and get into the driver's seat. We should go on our way."

"I don't think I should, doc," Alexander said. "I think dropping him would open us up to another attack."

"You'll have to figure out a way to keep him restrained, then, or else he'll cause us more trouble than we can handle just now."

"Please..." Morrison said, starting to step forward but stopping when Krugman aimed the gun again. "Please, just let him go. You don't need him, you don't, we'll back off, we'll-,"

"Oh the hell with this!" Josh abruptly kicked the door of the van he was standing behind, slamming it shut hard enough to collide with Krugman and knock him backwards into the van. "Storm 'em!"

Morrison lunged forward, grabbing the guy holding Jeff and yanking him out, while Josh yanked the van door back open for Batista and Beth to jump in and go after Krugman, with the sound of blows falling and bodies colliding into van walls. Alexander stumbled but managed to stay on his feet, still clutching hard at Jeff's hair, trying to keep him between himself and Morrison. "Stay back," Alexander warned, walking backwards, even though Morrison stalked his every step.

"Keep it up and I'll shove your foot up your own ass," Morrison growled, stalking after the guy. "Let go of him and walk away and you'll live through this with a minimum of dismemberment. If I don't maul you, as soon as the others are finished with your doctor buddy, they'll sure as shit help me."

The man narrowed his eyes, glaring at Morrison a moment, but abruptly released Jeff's arms and shoved him forward into Morrison, in the same motion, ripping his hand through Jeff's hair and making his hostage scream in pain as a chunk of blue locks were pulled free, remaining in Alexander's hand. Morrison caught Jeff and glared as Alexander, grinning wickedly, ran the strands of hair under his nose. "Keeping this for a souvenir, so I know what to look for later!" he smirked, before turning on his heel and running towards the street.

"You motherfucker!" Morrison shouted, starting to try and go after him, but Jeff grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Let him go, Johnny. He's just some fucked-up flunky. We'll never see him again." Jeff winced, rubbing the spot on his head where the hair had been pulled out. "This has not been my morning."

"Are you okay? Jesus, you bounced off the roof of a van and then that-,"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Jeff glanced towards the van, where the noises of the fight finally died down, as Josh stood at the back and watched through the open door. "More than I can say for the dude in there."

They headed over to join Josh, then had to step back as Batista tossed the battered doctor out and onto the pavement. "Good move, Josh," he said with a nod.

"I was tired of the monologue." Josh peered in. "How's Cena?"

Batista winced, turning to where Beth was crouched in front of their friend, unfastening the belts holding him into the chair. "Not good. They've drugged him and it looked like they beat on him a little bit before we got here."

"He's still alive, but he's really out of it," Beth said, as the last belt came free, and she caught him as he slumped forward. "Let's get him out of here and go find Eddie and Chavo and Rey, fast."

Batista turned his head at the sound of several sirens in the distance. "Yeah, especially since we've been doing all this shooting and fighting in fucking public without giving it a second thought."

"Oh shit." Beth grunted, starting to haul Cena forward, but Batista turned and grabbed him, tossing him over a shoulder.

"Grab our things out of the room fast, I'll load him up and get the van started." Batista turned and hurried for the white van as the others bolted for the room. He opened the door of the van, clambering in with Cena over his shoulder and laying him across the seats, then turning and climbing into the driver's seat, fumbling around for the keys before locating them in the sun visor, jamming them into the ignition and cranking the engine. "Hurry up!"

Josh, Morrison, and Beth burst through the door of the hotel room, each carrying a couple of their duffel bags, while Jeff, carrying the last few shopping bags, pulled the door shut behind him and ran after, each of them climbing into the van and slamming the door. Batista immediately pushed the gears into place and pressed the pedal to the floor, peeling out of the parking lot as the sirens became loud enough for them to hear even through the closed windows.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Josh was muttering, actually sinking down into his seat as though to hide better, but just before the sirens sounded as though they were in the parking lot with them, Batista was on the street and moving down it, the cop cars whipping by on the adjacent street, apparently none the wiser of the white van containing the very people they were seeking.

"Do you think he meant it when he said the cops were in on this?" Jeff asked, still rubbing the back of his head.

"I don't know, but I don't want to risk it, either." Batista, winced. "Someone call Eddie or Chavo's cell phone and figure out where they are, tell them to be ready to get in the car fast because I don't want to stop if I can help it. We'd never outrun police cars in this thing."

Morrison and Josh pawed through some of the bags before locating one of the phones, Josh opening it to start dialing, as Beth slipped out of her seat and scooted onto the floor, moving next to Cena to turn his head so his face wasn't in the seat. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked, looking towards Batista. "What did they give him?"

"I don't know. Probably that same red shit they use for the brainwashing. It can really fuck a person up."

"Brainwashing...do you think they did anything to him? Is he gonna be all right?"

"I don't know. I don't think they did. They didn't have him drugged very long if he was able to yell for us to take Rey away during that phone call. He'll probably throw up a while and wake up completely paranoid for a bit, but he'll probably be fine as soon as it's out of his system."

Beth winced slightly, reaching up to lightly stroke Cena's face, even as Morrison called out.

"Got hold of Eddie. They're at a Burger King a couple of streets over, they'll meet us out front."

"Good." Batista made a quick turn, glancing in the rear view mirror to be sure no police were following them. "Then we get the fuck out of here before we get caught. We have to do something to make those guys back off us and fast."

"So what would that be?" Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.

Batista sighed softly, shaking his head. "Fucked if I know, man."


	9. Chapter 9

They drove in silence for a while, leaving the tiny town and getting onto a highway heading out, at first not really caring where it took them, so long as it was away from Pembroke and the police. After feeling a little more certain that they were safe, they'd pulled over to rig up a sort of travel shade on the windows, stopping at a gas station to procure duct tape and a tarp, ripping it up and taping it over the windows as a sort of curtain, so that they had no worries of being spotted by anyone passing on the highway. While the others handled that, Josh snuck away and procured the license plate from the clerk's car, swapping it with the van's, helping to further obscure their identity. He then climbed into the driver's seat to take them through another tiny town, pulling through the first McDonalds he saw to order lunch for them, and once Chavo had finished eating, he'd pulled a hat on his head and was now taking a turn driving, still following the same highway.

At the same time, Eddie had bought a newspaper, and though they weren't above the fold, their disappearance from the Raw taping was front page news, just below an article on the President meeting with some foreign dignitary and next to a story about a local scandal involving city hall. There wasn't much detail to the story yet, just that a large number of WWE wrestlers had abruptly walked out of an area Raw taping and were still missing, with a phone number to call for details. They recognized the number as belonging to Vince's personal assistant, which rang worryingly, since they all knew that Vince was somehow involved in Rey's abduction and everything else that had happened, though not even Batista knew exactly what his stake was.

For the time being, they had no more ideas. They had the files Marcia and Batista had saved up, and they had Rey. But as Morrison had pointed out, calling a newspaper or television station would probably get them nowhere, and any of them just showing up at the offices might cause too much stir too fast...the story might not have time to get anywhere before their location got out and the scientists were bearing down on them. It wasn't very likely, but it was a little too likely for their preference yet.

In case they weren't morose enough, Cena's condition rapidly went from bad to worse. At first he'd just been semiconscious, laying in the seat and muttering nonsense under his breath, rolling his head back and forth. That had suddenly devolved into screaming gibberish and oddly violent sentences at them, writhing and clawing at himself that bordered on convulsions, which didn't stop until Cena was sweating feverishly and his shirt was tattered, and as Batista had warned, copious vomiting. Beth had fortunately thought far enough ahead to get some trash bags from the gas station to handle the mess, and she simply handed them forward to Chavo to toss out the window whenever they were used. But several times, Batista and Eddie had to physically hold Cena down to stop him from hurting himself or anyone else just through the force of his frenzied spasms. Eddie had tried to get through to him, calm him down, but Batista had explained that Cena didn't know what was happening himself, wasn't in control, couldn't stop even if he happened to be awake to stop it, which he probably wasn't. They just had to ride it out.

He was going through one right now, the most extreme one yet. Jeff and Morrison found themselves having to crawl over the seat to sit on Cena and help hold him, as he was even overpowering Batista and Eddie with this outburst. Josh sat in the back with Rey while Beth perched silently in the front passenger seat, holding a T-shirt and a bottle of water, waiting for it to be over with.

"Careful, Skittles," Eddie said to Jeff, as he was nearly thrown off by the force of Cena's thrashing. "Try not to suffocate him."

"We got it," Morrison responded, grunting in effort to try and stay in place.

"It'll get better," Batista said, after the fit finally gave way to exhausted murmurs. "This is how it always goes. Once it finishes working out of his system, he'll be all right. This shit just does a number on the nervous system for a little while."

"What the hell _is _this crap?" Jeff panted, moving over the seat to sit back down as Beth scooted forward, soaking the shirt with the bottle of water and starting to wipe Cena's face, neck and chest, trying to cool his overheated skin.

"I don't know. But it's the drug that the entire test was about, to a degree. Or at least it was what they used, in conjunction with a bunch of different brainwashing techniques, to keep stuff going. All I really know is that they'd give it to people, they'd be like this for a while, and once it was out of them and they woke up, they usually lost a few hours of memory...except for whatever bits were programmed in while they were under." Batista sighed, sitting back and wiping his forehead. "We're kind of lucky so far that it's just throwing up and we can control his freaking out. It could be a lot messier. At least one person scratched her eyes up so bad..." his voice trailed off as he winced, obviously not wanting to continue the memory.

"How often did this happen?" Eddie asked, sitting back on the floor of the van, brushing his hair back slightly.

Batista sighed. "Daily. More than daily. Strapping people down to keep them from attacking anyone, forcing it down their throats or injecting it if they fought too hard. Just in the time I was there seeing what happened..." He chewed his lip, glancing back towards Rey.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. "How often did it happen to _him_, Dave?" he said, a definite edge to his voice.

Batista shook his head slightly. "A lot. I don't know how many times exactly. But a lot. And going from what I saw happening to others, there's a chance he spent days at a time in a state like this...so many people did..."

There was a moment of silence, as Eddie just glared at him, and the others looked on in alarmed silence. After a little bit, Batista leaned back against the wall of the van, sighing and rubbing his hands over his face, staring down at the floor. When he spoke, his voice cracked.

"I'm sorry. I'm...I'm just...I'm sorry, you know? I didn't...I didn't know what to do..." He looked up towards Eddie, and there were tears visible in his eyes, though he seemed to be trying to keep them back. "I tried to follow M-Marcia and...she came to me to, and I just...I didn't know what to do, man, you gotta believe me...I wanted to stop it but I couldn't..."

From the backseat, Rey tilted his head, then got up, making his way forward, scooching around the others through the tight space of the van and coming over to Batista, crouching down and scooting in, suddenly hugging him close.

"It's okay, Dave," he said softly. "Things were bad, you didn't mean it. And you saved me."

"Not soon enough..." Batista murmured, pulling Rey closer.

"Hell's a big thing to fight." Rey shrugged slightly, as though it should be obvious. "I'm scared of it, too. But you and the others all came in anyway to save me."

Batista sighed, patting Rey's head. "Yeah...yeah, we did..."

( )

They drove a while further before finding another tiny little town with another rundown motel, fairly shabby and apparently decorated by a blind man with no one to tell him green and orange didn't go together as a scheme, but the beds were comfortable and they were relatively clean rooms. They had stopped for gas a couple of hours earlier, and Batista had used the ATM to draw cash off of his credit card. Now Josh went in to pay for two rooms with the cash, as Eddie had pointed out the credit card could have been what was used to track them down at the previous motel. Josh felt also that he was the least likely of the group to be recognized, so he arranged for two rooms on the ground floor, not connected, but still adjoining, so they could stay close together.

They hadn't planned on getting another hotel, not so soon in the day and particularly not after how things had gone down that morning, but staying in the van, especially with Cena's condition, was beginning to border on unbearable. Jeff was rocking himself and obviously getting quite agitated at having to be cramped into one place for so long, Chavo was starting to show signs of serious road rage which would boil over sooner rather than later, they were all getting stiff and sore, the frustration at not being able to figure out their next move was mounting, and they were running low on plastic bags while Cena seemed to be showing no signs of running out of stomach contents.

They'd managed to park right next to the rooms, so they minimized their time spent being visible from the street, and so they were able to bring out a blanket and wrap it around Cena to keep him hidden as well. Likely if anyone saw people carrying an unconscious man from a white utility van into a hotel room, they would be at least slightly curious.

Once they had him in, Beth, showing slightly more of a gentle and possibly maternal side than the others realized she was capable of, though still maintaining her usual surly Amazonian attitude, had ordered Batista to help her in carrying Cena into the bathroom, cleaning him up, and dressing him in a clean pair of pajama bottoms before tucking him into bed, where she continued to keep an eye on him. He seemed to finally be through the worst of the fits, just deeply unconscious, and Beth seemingly had taken it upon herself to bring him completely back to health no matter how long it might take.

It had been about an hour since they'd settled in, and Morrison was sitting on the other side of the bed, resting his chin in his hand, watching the others. Beth was still doting on Cena, and Eddie and Rey were sitting on the other bed, tacitly choosing to get lost in some old black and white show on the ancient television rather than dedicate any brainspace to thought. Batista had locked himself in the bathroom and apparently had no plans of coming out any time soon. He got up and stretched out, then headed outside, going to the next door and peeking in, seeing Josh and Chavo were sitting on one of the beds, examining the tattered phonebook for an idea of what to order for dinner that night.

"Do you guys know where Jeff is?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Think he went back into the van," Josh said, shrugging a little. "Probably just wanted some alone time. You know Jeff."

"Yeah, I do," Morrison answered, closing the door and turning to glance at the van.

( )

Jeff crawled all the way to the back seat of the van, stretching out on it to keep down so that no one would see him, even through the windshield. He blew out a breath, then pulled one of the cell phones out of his pocket, opening it and staring at the screen a moment, then closing his eyes, able to dial the familiar number as though his fingers remembered it without his brain. He put the phone to his ear, still keeping his eyes closed, listening to it ring at the other end. After three rings, it finally was answered.

"Hello?"

Jeff cleared his throat a little. "Hey, Matt."

"Jeff! Oh my God, where are you, what happened?"

Jeff could hear a female voice exclaiming in the background, which pretty well answered his next question, but he asked it anyway. "Are you with Angie and the kids?"

"What? Yeah, I am, but Jeff, for God's sakes, you just disappeared, you and all the others, where the hell are you? Are you okay? Are you in any trouble? What happened?" Matt's voice was almost frantic, and Jeff winced slightly at the thought of how much worry this had caused his older sibling.

"Matt, listen to me," he broke in. "Listen, I need you to do something for me, okay? I need you to do something."

"What? Do you need a ride home, someone to pick you up, I can be at the airport in half an hour-,"

"No! Matt, please...just listen, okay?" Jeff rubbed his forehead with the hand not holding the phone. "I need you to do a couple of things. First I need you to call Daddy and tell him to swing by my house, pick up Beth and the dogs, and go stay with Shannon for a few days, okay?"

"What?" Matt was obviously going to be getting a lot of mileage out of that word with this conversation. "Jeff, why would-?"

"Just listen, Matt! After you do that, I need you to take Angie and the kids and I need you guys to get the hell out of sight. I don't care where you go, just take them somewhere that no one will be able to find you, not any of the guys from work, not Vince, not anyone, someplace that no one will be able to find you."

Matt was silent for a moment, and with his eyes closed, Jeff could easily visualize the befuddled look on his face, probably complete with a lot of fast blinking and his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate exactly how to respond. Finally, he came up with, "Jesus, Jeff, what the hell have you gotten yourself into? What's happening?"

"I can't...I can't tell you yet, Matt. I just need you to trust me and tell everyone what I said. Shannon can protect Daddy and Beth, he's the only person aside from you I would trust right now. And you've got to protect Angie and Dom and Ally and you've got to do that by hiding, all of you."

"Jeff, this is crazy-,"

"Matt, please..." Jeff heard a waver enter his voice, and when he opened his eyes, he wasn't surprised when tears escaped. "Please, please, Matt, please, you just have to trust me this time, okay? This isn't drugs stuff or me screwing up, I swear. I just need to know that you guys are all okay, please...please just trust me, Matt, okay? Please..."

Matt was silent again, and this time Jeff could picture his contemplative expression, as he was trying to work out whether or not this was serious. But to Jeff's immense relief, he responded well. "Okay...okay, Jeff, I'll do that, I'll call Daddy and then I'll have Angie pack and we'll go someplace and lay low until I hear from you again."

Jeff let out a soft sigh. "Good...thank you...thank you, Matt, just hurry and do that and I'll talk to you again when this is all over."

"Do you...know how long whatever's happening will...take...?"

"I don't know...I hope not much longer..." Jeff winced. "Matt...what I'm doing...it might cause us trouble down the road. It's the right thing to do but it might be...it might cause bad things."

Matt hesitated before speaking again. "Are you sure it's the right thing to do, then?"

Jeff couldn't contain a faint whimper. "I know it is. I hate it, but it's the right thing to do...the only thing to do."

"Then just do it, do the best you can. I'll take care of everything on this end."

"I'm sorry for all of this, Matt..."

"It's okay, Jeff. If you're doing the right thing, don't ever be sorry for that. I'm gonna go now and call Daddy and get the kids ready to go. You call me as soon as things are okay again."

Jeff sniffled some. "Okay. I'll do that."

"Okay." There was a slight pause. "Is Johnny with you? He taking care of you?"

"Yeah...he's with me. All of us who left are together."

"Okay. Then I feel better knowing you aren't alone. I love you, little bro. That won't change, no matter what."

"I love you too, Matt. Please be careful." Jeff pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the button to turn it off, before he could lose his nerve. He dropped the phone into the floor next to him, then covered his face with his hands, sniffling again. "Oh God..."

"Hey..."

Jeff shot upright quickly in the seat, but he saw Morrison, who had made his way in quietly, and now was sitting on the front passenger seat, but he made his way closer when Jeff saw him. "Johnny, how long have you-?"

"Long enough." Morrison scooted Jeff over a bit and sat next to him. "You did the right thing there and you're doing the right thing now."

"I know...it just...it feels terrible. We're doing something s'posed to be so great, but...Matt's the one who's gonna pay for it when we get back..."

Morrison put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close. "He's gonna get hurt, no question. But he's gonna be really proud of you, too. You know, I know, and he'll know that this was absolutely the only thing a decent person could do with this situation." He leaned in and kissed Jeff lightly on the temple, rubbing his arm lightly. "You're doing something truly heroic, and he won't hold that against you."

Jeff nodded a little morosely, leaning against Morrison. "I hope we get this over with soon."

"We will. We'll think of something." Morrison reached down, cupping Jeff's chin and lifting his head, kissing him lightly on the lips. "Then we can all go home and rest and not worry about anything more serious than the fact that you refuse to give in to a healthy diet."

Jeff's mouth quirked slightly. "You aren't gonna get me to give up my deer steaks and beer for your tofu and wheatgrass, California boy."

"We'll see, Carolina boy. Meantime, it's kind of nice to have a little space to ourselves for a little while." Morrison kissed him again. "Let's enjoy the peace for at least a few minutes, shall we?"

Jeff nodded some, cuddling a little closer. "That's the best plan I've heard all day."


	10. Chapter 10

Beth watched from where she was sitting next to the sleeping Cena, looking over at the other bed, where Eddie and Rey were leaning against the headboard and Batista was sitting on the end of the bed, holding the files in his hand and shuffling through them. Batista and Eddie had been using the information in them and their own knowledge to try and help Rey understand what had happened to him, but after half an hour, they weren't having much luck.

"You never actually died, Rey," Batista said, voice still patient despite what had to be a hair-pulling level of frustration. "They faked all of that by kidnapping you and using the hotel fire to hide that the body they found wasn't actually your's."

"Kane showed me my funeral..." Rey said softly, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes cast down to the sheets of paper in front of him, his having read them himself not doing a thing for his level of belief.

"Because we all thought it had been you," Eddie said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We thought you had been killed, but we were wrong. We were all wrong."

"But he showed me Angie...and Matt Hardy, with the kids...it's been so little time and they're together already, it must have been to hurt me, or..." Rey shook his head slightly, not able or willing to quite keep up with that thought.

"They told you it was 2007, part of the way to keep you off-balance," Batista said. "It's early 2010 right now. Those videos are from late in 2008 and through 2009, stolen from Matt and Angie or taken from some government surveillance of your family. Angie and Matt never even gave each other a second look until they ran into each other at a show almost three years after we thought you were gone."

Rey shook his head again. "But Kane was able to do so many things...he could just appear in the room from out of thin air..."

"There were trapdoor panels in the walls of those rooms. The instant you weren't looking, he'd slip through them."

"Rooms?"

"The basements. There were a few different ones; the one with the TV, the one with the ghost noises, the drugged room..."

"But he paralyzed me! He just...gestured at me and then I couldn't move!"

"It's another thing they designed for use...they had these little..." Batista picked up one sheet of paper, frowning at it. "I don't know how to describe them, they were able to practically tattoo these tiny little pellets just under your skin that would dissolve in a very particular amount of time. It would soak into your skin and muscles like LSD, worked real fast and burned like hell. Kane probably went through a hell of a lot of effort to get his timing with those things down perfectly."

"But he knew what I was thinking, he answered me, he-,"

"They programmed that into you. Lots of sessions of that scenario until they could get you reacting how they wanted you to."

"They did that more than once?" Eddie asked.

Batista winced, nodding. "They did a lot of things that they erased from his memory...to get him to do what they needed for their scenarios. Implanting the pellets probably had to be done so quickly and was painful enough that they had to erase it or else Rey would have know something weird was going on."

"Even though each time they ran that...drug through his system, it made his mental...made his mind...degrade?"

"Even though. They were desperate to test psychological reactions and the durability of their brainwashing, so they banged on the programs as hard as they could to try and knock it loose-,"

"But I _saw_ Hell, Dave!" Rey suddenly burst out. "I _saw_ it, I heard it, I felt the heat of the fire!"

"You saw a room covered floor-to-ceiling with LCD screens, a set of speakers the length of the entire doorframe to simulate the sound, and felt heat pumped into a clear glass chamber the length of the door so the screens weren't damaged. If you'd tried to run through the door, you'd have shattered the illusion...literally."

Rey shook his head. "No, no...Dave, it can't be all that. I know Eddie died, I remember that day, it happened, I remember it all."

"No, Rey," Eddie said, touching his arm. "No, it didn't happen. You were ki-um, taken in April of 2005, right after our Wrestlemania event. By November, Dave and I had been going back and forth over the title for three months. I was fine."

"No! We lost the titles to MNM, we started fighting, you tried to take Dominik and we had just started to work on patching things up when you-,"

Eddie clasped Rey's shoulders. "Rey, think about that. You said that I said Dom was mine, Rey, but he couldn't be, you know that. He looks exactly like you, he couldn't possibly be anyone else's."

"But we fought at Summerslam..."

Beth raised a hand to get their attention. "Rey, okay. I have a thought. You say you remember fighting Eddie at Summerslam. But do you remember any of the other matches from that night?"

All three of them looked at Rey, who started to open his mouth as though to answer, but stopped, blinking and eyes going wide as he just stared at her in mute surprise.

"See, Rey, I figure...if you had actually been through all this, you'd at least remember, say, who you walked past on your way out to the ring or your way back afterwards, and knew their match...but if they just programmed you to recall your events, they might not have thought it through well enough to program the entirety of pay-per-view events or what would have been dozens of wrestling events in. That was my thought."

Batista nodded. "Good thought."

"Or for that matter, forget any individual matches," Eddie said. "Just tells us who, say, Dave there was fighting with during the time you were fighting with me. Or Randy Orton, or Jericho, or anybody. Just tell us anything else that was happening in WWE at the time."

Rey stared at them, blinking slowly, shaking his head a little. "I...we fought, we fought for months..."

"Okay, but what about anyone else? While we were fighting each other, who was the champion? Any champion, WWE, women, tag team, whatever you can remember."

Rey winced, whimpering softly and holding onto his temples, closing his eyes. "I...I don't know...I...can't remember..."

"Because none of it actually happened, Rey," Batista said, reaching out to take his hands away from his temples. "They programmed memories into you, but it wasn't perfect. They didn't put in the details beyond your own personal life."

"But I don't understand," Rey murmured. "I was...what Kane put me through...if that wasn't Hell..."

"It was horrific, and it should never have happened to you. And it's probably some of the worst trauma a person can get put through, but...it wasn't Hell. They just wanted to see..." Batista flipped through the pages, frowning, until he found what he was looking for. "That test was to figure out if the brainwashing could be broken by an enemy using a faked supernatural occurrence to break through by sheer force of fear, and how you would respond."

"It doesn't make sense..." Rey whined softly. "How could anyone do that to another person? They'd have to be demons. People aren't like that, they...Kane wouldn't have, he would of...it doesn't make sense..."

Batista sighed, looking to Eddie. "I think even if it weren't brainwashed into him, it'd be easier for him to believe they were demons from Hell than to accept that other human beings could do stuff like this."

"It would be nice if that were the case," Eddie said evenly, pulling Rey over to hug him as he whimpered softly, starting to cry.

"I'm sorry...I just...I don't know what I did wrong, why it happened, I'm sorry I dragged you all into this..."

"Hey, hey, come on," Eddie said, rubbing his back. "You didn't drag us into anything. We wanted to come. Soon as we knew we could come to get you, we were _frantic_ to come. You couldn't have stopped us, no one could have stopped us. Nothing has stopped us yet."

"But things...you got hurt and Cena's hurt and we're running from the devils and that fire and all those people and, and...it was just terrible and it shouldn't have happened, I should've been better, I should've..."

"Shhhhh, Rey..." Eddie started to rock him back and forth. "It's okay. Calm down. You don't have to think about that right now. We aren't going to talk about it anymore." He gestured at Batista, who silently gathered up the papers, shaking his head and starting to tuck them back into the small travel safe. "There, see? We're just gonna put that stuff away. Just relax a little bit, huh? Don't gotta worry about it no more."

"But if it's wrong, then I don't...I..." Rey winced, hiding his face against Eddie's shoulder, as Eddie continued to rock him and rub his back, working on soothing him.

Beth sighed and looked over to Batista, then down at Cena, reaching down to touch the side of his neck, checking his pulse. "What about John, Dave? Shouldn't he be awake by now? It's nearly four in the afternoon, he's been out for hours."

"Depends on how much they gave him. The fact that he's not spewing like Old Faithful anymore is a good sign, though. Once that and the flailing and screaming settles down, it's basically just a really, _really_ deep sleep. We could probably wake him up right now if we really worked at it, but it'll be better to just let him sleep and come out of it himself so he's not so...drugged up. He'd probably just be a walking zombie at this point."

Beth looked down, stroking the top of Cena's head as though to move back his hair. "Well, even Superman had kryptonite," she said glumly. "When not even John Cena can risk being on his own around these people, just...shit. It is a miracle we didn't all get-,"

"Hush. Remember little ears," Batista said, tilting his head vaguely in Rey's direction, as he was finally calming down, wiping at his eyes and looking back and forth between them.

"Sorry," Beth said, looking back down and continuing to stroke Cena's hair.

There was a knock at the door, and Chavo and Josh came in after a second, carrying boxes of pizza as they did. "Delivery guy finally came," Chavo said, as he and Josh set the boxes on the empty space on top of the room's dressing table. He glanced around slightly. "Where are Jeff and Morrison?"

Beth gestured vaguely towards the outside wall, in the direction of their vehicle. "If the van's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'," she said.

"Oh. Is that why the windows were all..." Chavo stopped, considering, then made a face. "Ew. I don't want to think about that. Remind me to put a towel down to sit on when we leave."

Josh snorted, getting himself a couple of slices and going to settle into the small chair. "I doubt they're actually 'rocking the van.' Hell, we don't even know for sure they're anything but friends."

"Are you kidding?" Eddie asked, standing and going to get a couple of the boxes and bring them back for himself, Batista, and Rey, then handing one over to Beth. "Any time the last five or six months that Skittles isn't following Matt and Angie around, he's following Johnny around. And wearing Johnny's coats like some cheerleader girl with her boyfriend's football jacket. It's nearly sickening." He chuckled a bit, though, apparently amused at the memory of the pair's antics.

"Well, I'm not going to go peep in the windows to tell them food's on," Chavo said, making a face. "Don't need to see that."

Josh rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and going towards the door, polishing off the slice as he did. "I'll get them. You weenie."

Beth chuckled a little, watching him step outside, then she glanced back down at Cena, startling slightly when she saw his eyes were open, and he was blinking back at her, seeming a little confused. "John?"

The others looked up, figured out what was happening, and crowded over, looking on. Cena turned his head, looking over at them, then yawned and stretched out with a faint growl. "Uh, hi, guys," he said groggily, rubbing at his eyes. "Man, I must be really pretty in the morning."

"Are you okay?" Beth asked, reaching down to put a hand to the back of his forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Like I finally had a good night's sleep and now a bunch of people are looking at me funny." Cena scooted a little and sat up, stretching and yawning again. "Did I fall asleep at the table or..." He glanced around, paused, surveying the room, frowning slightly, even as Jeff and Morrison followed Josh in, the three of them looking as surprised as the others to see him. "This isn't the same hotel room. This is much uglier. Where are we?"

"You don't remember what happened?" Eddie asked.

"The last thing I remember is sitting at the table and de-tagging all our clothes and things while you guys were asleep. Sorry, guess I passed out on the table. I was kinda tired."

"That's to be expected," Batista said. "Like I said, that drug erases a few hours of memory from before they give it to you."

Cena looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Drug? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Will it have any lasting effects?" Beth asked, putting a hand on Cena's shoulder.

"One dose, I don't think so...aside from maybe...Cena, do you feel like any of us might be out to get you?" Batista asked.

Cena snorted. "We're professional wrestlers. I always think you might be out to get me. I just hope you can keep it under control till we get back to the ring."

"No spiders or snakes or anything coming out of the walls, right?"

"Jesus, I'm never falling asleep around you people again if this is what I'm gonna wake up to." Cena tossed back the blankets and moved to get to his feet, grunting a little. "God, I'm sore. Too much fleeing. Anyway, I'm starving, save me some of that pizza...what time is it? Did you really let me sleep that long? Anyway, first things first. Excuse me." He headed for the bathroom, stepping in and pulling the door shut behind him.

"He really, seriously has no idea, does he?" Jeff started to ask, but they heard Cena yell from the bathroom.

"Hey, why the hell do I have a huge burn on my ribs??"

"Well, he probably does now." Beth called back to him. "Just hurry up and then get dressed and come eat! We'll fill you in on all the details!"

"What the fuck did we do last night?"

Batista rolled his eyes slightly, then opened the small safe again, taking out the papers and starting to shuffle to the page containing the information about the drug. "We'll tell you when you get out."


	11. Chapter 11

Cena leaned back in his chair, nibbling at a piece of pizza as Batista finished his explanation of what they knew of the last few hours of last night and what had happened since Cena's memory went black. He had dressed himself in jeans and a red hoodie and pulled his sneakers back on, but he kept lifting the shirt to examine the wound left from the cattle prod.

When Batista finished, Cena polished off the slice of pizza and looked at the injury again. "Damn," he muttered. "So, we're just kinda chilling out here for now, huh?"

"We couldn't come up with anything better," Batista said, shrugging. "Every option we have is dangerous."

"Yeah, but doing nothing is just as dangerous and has no good side. We have to get someone to see Rey's alive and look at your paperwork there. And shit, I suppose I'm evidence now too that I've had that crap run through me."

"Maybe so. I don't know how long but there'll be residue in your system for a little while at least." Batista blew out a breath. "What do you think we should do?"

"I think we crash a live broadcast at the first television studio we can track down and blurt everything out."

"That seems a little reckless," Morrison said.

"Reckless might be our best option. Those doctor dudes won't expect us to act so fast and seemingly without thinking it through."

"I think we should do something else first," Eddie said. "We only have one set of these papers. We need to make copies of them so we can't lose them, and figure out some way to secure the copies in other places so even if we lose these, there'll be more."

"Good idea," Cena said, helping himself to another piece of pizza. "We can find a library or anywhere with a copier, run off a few copies, and if all else fails, put a few in the mail, send them off to some places where we can retrieve them later. P.O. boxes or whatever. We can figure it out on the way. We're already settled in here, we probably haven't been followed, and we need to catch our breath, so I guess we should rest for now, then hunt down a TV station in the morning and make a big impact." He picked off a piece of pepperoni and nibbled at it. "Obviously, we should have more than one person stand guard at a time, too."

"How big a television station are we talking, though?" Jeff asked. "I mean, some little local affiliate-,"

"It'll need to be something fairly major," Cena admitted. "We need to get a lot of tongues wagging. Right now, they want to get at us to keep their secret. Once the secret's out, we should be safe."

"Should?" Chavo asked.

"Well, far be it from me to assume that these guys are gonna be decent enough to just roll over and accept defeat. But I don't think they'd have anything to gain from offing us after we've already shown the world what we have."

Batista nodded a little. "They'll probably go into major denial mode, he said-she said kind of thing. Be too busy throwing blame to-,"

There was a furious pounding at the door, and they all froze, glancing around the room as though to ascertain they were all present. "Who is-?" Eddie started to ask, getting to his feet.

"Dave! Dave, open the door! Dave, I know you've gotta be in there so open the door!"

Batista got to his feet, looking a little surprised. "Keith?" He hurried over and pulled open the door, and a black man in a suit and tie, carrying a briefcase, staggered in, panting and out of breath. "What the hell-?"

Rey screamed, grabbing for Eddie and clinging to him. "He's one of them!" he shrieked. "He's one of the demons, he's one of the demons!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Batista said, holding up his hands, stepping between the newcomer and the others. "He's not a bad guy, his name is Keith Darden, he's all right, he was with me and Marcia-,"

"You guys have to get moving," the man gasped out, apparently still out of breath. "Bettler has more people coming this way, they're coming!"

"What??" Batista looked back at him. "How can they know where we are??" There was a split second of silence. "How did _you_ know where we were?"

Keith slapped the briefcase down on the bed and opened it, taking out what looked like a large GPS, holding it out. "They have a tracker on Rey, they have trackers on all their subjects, and they're hunting you down now, and they're on their way, I just managed to get this and get here before them, you have to move _now_!"

"Wait, who's Bettler?" Cena started to ask, but Batista whipped around, shaking his head.

"Never mind, we're going!" Batista hurried over, grabbing up a bag and flinging it over his shoulder. "Hurry up and load into the van!"

Cena shrugged, going to help Batista grab their things as Eddie scooped up Rey and they headed outside, starting to clamber into the van, Keith coming along with them and jumping into the driver's seat. "Where can we go?" Eddie asked, as he clambered in as well.

"We just have to get away, we just have to get as far from here as we can as fast as we can," he said, grabbing the keys from Batista as he climbed into the front passenger seat.

"How far away are they?" Batista asked.

"I don't know," Keith answered, starting the van and pulling back, starting to drive out of the parking lot. "They're on their way, and I don't think I beat them here by much."

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Beth demanded.

"I was another operative working on bringing in information on the project," Keith said, pulling onto the street and heading down it, glancing around as he did. "I was further into the inner sanctum, so you could say, so when the siege was supposed to go down, I was still on the inside, working towards keeping an eye on any attempt at sneaking away." He shook his head. "Then that whole mess went down with the snipers and the explosives, and what with moving the subjects around-,"

"Wait, moving them around?" Batista asked. "But the hospital-,"

"Was blown to kingdom come, yeah." Keith shook his head. "When you guys busted in, the doctors evacuated some of the subjects through the back and set to transporting them to the other facilities."

"Other facilities??"

"You didn't think they would keep everything in one spot like that, do you?" Keith glanced over at him. "Dave, there's facilities scattered all over the place. You've only seen this one because they were using you for Rey's sessions."

Josh spoke up from the back. "I thought that hospital didn't seem big enough for three thousand people..."

"Oh, God, no." Keith glanced into the rearview mirror once, then turning again, heading towards the edge of the small city and back towards the highway, driving through what seemed to be an industrial area with office buildings along all sides. "Three hundred there. A hundred of them were removed before they blew the building. The hundred most promising cases...the others were..." He made a face. "Not to par, to borrow a phrase."

Eddie piped up. "You said they have a tracker on Rey, then how is running going to help us?" he asked, looking Rey over as though to find the offending device.

"Well...less on him and more in him, actually. For the moment, I just need to get enough distance between you and them so we can find where it's implanted and hopefully remove it, so then you can slip away unnoticed and do whatever it was you guys were planning to do."

"Implanted? Jesus..." Morrison said.

Batista shook his head. "But if they were so close, how are we gonna-?"

"_Look out!!_" Josh's voice suddenly broke out, but even as he did, there was a crash, a rending of metal and sounds of broken glass, and the van was jarred and shuddered sideways, knocking the lot of them to the ground and against the smashed wall of the van. Batista grunted as his head collided solidly with the window next to him, and he grunted, grabbing his temples and trying to shake away the wash of darkness and stars that sprang into his vision. Before he could, someone was on him, pushing him down and out of the way, as a few shots rang out, and there was the bizarre pinging and breaking of metal as bullets tore through the van around them, though it seemed as though they were being purposely missed.

"Kane, make it stop!" Rey was screaming, even as he was on the floor of the van, covering his head with his arms, curled up against the seat, as Beth knelt next to him to try and pull him up. "Make it stop, make it stop, please, Kane, just make it stop, please make it stop!"

"It's not Kane!" Batista started to yell back, but the person pushing him down, Keith, interrupted.

"Son of a bitch, yes it is!" he exclaimed, even as the door was yanked open and Batista felt someone grab hold of his arm and pull him out and to the pavement hard. He looked up to see the familiar nemesis standing over him, ridiculously wearing slacks and a dress shirt, grinning down at him in only that insane way that Kane could.

"Well, well, Dave..." Kane was saying, even as he kicked Batista in the ribs hard enough to knock him aside a few inches. "Seems our little friend remembers me well, doesn't it?"

"Stay away from him!" Batista snarled, rolling to all fours and moving to charge at Kane, but stopping himself when he saw a couple more of the gray-suited guards stepping out of the green car that had sideswiped them, brandishing pistols. "Goddamnit!"

"Give him back to me and I'll go on my merry way," Kane said, still smiling widely. "I'll even neglect to tell the doctors I saw you. Hell, I'll kill those two bastards behind me for you, I don't give a shit. You can run free all you like. I just want back what's mine."

"He's not your's, he never was and he never will be!"

"Well that's just too bad for you, then, isn't it?" Kane moved to kick at Batista again, but Batista moved faster, grabbing the raised leg and yanking it forward, pulling Kane to the ground, then pouncing atop him, starting to throw punches at his head. He heard gunshots again, and flinched, remembering the other bad guys a moment too late, but when he looked up, he realized Keith had stepped out of the van and was holding a pistol of his own, firing at them. One was already hit and down, while the other was ducking behind the green car, trying to stay out of the line of fire.

"Come on, get out of there!" he yelled to the others, as Cena moved over, having to lift Rey out of the way to get at the door and wrenching at it, but unable to get it open after having it smashed in from the crash.

"All right, up and through the front door," he said, gesturing, pushing Beth towards it. "Out, out!" He looked back at the others. "Anybody hurt? Can we all go?"

"We're all fine," Chavo said, as he pushed Josh and Jeff out of the seat to keep moving, as Beth climbed out through the front door and Eddie picked up Rey to follow her. "Just keep moving."

Cena turned and followed Eddie and Rey, hopping out after them, looking around a minute. "Now what?" he asked, looking towards Keith, who was still trying to keep the second gunman pinned down.

"Get behind the van and stay down until I can peg this guy!" the newcomer replied, moving closer, still aiming his gun.

"All right, get behind the van!" Cena said, turning and gesturing to the others, starting to guide them around, waiting till he was sure everyone was out before going around himself, standing on his tiptoes to look through the windows and watch what was happening.

Batista continued to brawl with Kane, but Kane suddenly shifted his weight and tossed Batista aside, rolling to straddle him and start throwing punches back. They continued to roll back and forth, while Keith and the second gunman were seemingly playing a ridiculous game of chase, each trying to get at the other around the green car, but instead just going around and around with each other. Cena dropped to the flats of his feet, considering, then glanced to Morrison next to him. "I think I have a plan."

"All right, what've you got?" Morrison asked.

Keith grunted as he dropped down as the gunman brandished the weapon at him, but even as he was re-aiming through the windows, the man sidestepped to avoid him, moving as though to jump onto the roof of the car. Keith lunged upwards to meet him, growling in frustration that neither of them were able to get the upper hand. However, just as the gunman was dropping back to avoid him again, Cena was climbing on top of the van, whistling loudly and waving his hands. "Hey, hey, hey, Gunner Scott, up here!"

The gunman's head whipped around to look up at the sound even as Cena dropped back off the roof and out of the line of fire, and at the same instant, Morrison stepped around the back of the van and behind him, and though the gunman was aware and started to turn towards the intruder, Morrison was just a step too fast, and spun around, the heel of his boot expertly meeting the man's jaw and knocking him into a loop and against the hood of the car, and at the same time, Keith, seizing the moment, lunged forward and cracked the handle of his gun into the man's temple, knocking him to the ground and unconscious, his pistol falling from his hand. Even as Cena came around to join him, Morrison crouched and picked it up, shrugging to Keith as he did. "Count us with the assist."

Chavo and Jeff rushed over to the brawl, and Kane, seeing them coming, kicked Batista away and rolled to the side, getting to his feet and glaring at them. "You idiots can't keep him away from me forever!" he barked.

"I think we can and I think we will!" Chavo shot back, as Jeff hauled Batista back to his feet. "You sick son of a bitch, you're going down just like the rest of them, even harder if I have my way!"

Kane smirked again, taking a step back. "We're not going down, Chavo, because we're all smarter than the rest of you. You idiots are just too much fun to play with. Doc Bettler's having a grand old time making notes on your data. We'll have you reeled in when we're good and ready."

"What the hell do you mean, our data?" Chavo started to ask, but there was a scream from behind them, and he spun around at the sound to see a familiar hulking brute scooting out from behind the van. Alexander, the bastard from before, had his arms locked around Beth and had lifted her off the ground, hauling her away despite her furious kicking and struggles.

"Put her down!" Eddie roared, but even as he started to move, he hesitated, not wanting to leave the cowering Rey's side.

"What the-?" Chavo started to say, but before he could say anything more, he grunted when Kane smashed a fist into the back of his head, then shoving Batista into Jeff hard enough to push them both to the ground before turning and fleeing back to the street the green car had come from, laughing wickedly even as he went.

Alexander grinned widely, even as he kept stepping backwards. "Classic test, the male impulse to protect the females," he almost giggled. "The one instinct that never seems to fail!"

"You again!" Morrison spat, shoving Cena out of his way in his haste to get closer, brandishing the gun. "I'm still gonna fucking murder you!"

Alexander grinned, letting go of Beth with one arm to dig a braided sprig of blue hair out of his pocket. "Still got it!" He abruptly grabbed hold of a thick strand of Beth's hair, yanking it out and ignoring her shriek of pain. "Maybe I should see if yellow and blue still make green in hair!"

"You son of a-!" Beth snarled, able to get an elbow squirmed loose and immediately planting it hard in Alexander's cheek.

He grunted, involuntarily dropping her. "You fuckin' bitch!" he roared, and lashed out with a fierce kick to her head, knocking her flat to the ground.

"_You_ fucking bitch!" Morrison pulled the trigger, but he yanked too hard on the gun, causing the shot to go wide. Alexander turned and fled, rushing behind one of the offices, even as Morrison chased him, still firing wildly but unable to hit him.

"Wait! Johnny!" Jeff yelled, pulling himself up and rushing after him. Even as they all vanished around the building, Josh had run to Beth's side, crouching next to her and touching her arm.

"Beth? Beth, are you okay? Beth?"

She grunted, sitting up and holding her head between her hands, eyes squeezed closed. "Fine. Didn't hurt."

"Damn, girl," Cena said, hurrying over with Keith to check her as well, taking hold of her arms and more or less lifting her to her feet. "You can seriously take a hit."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Where'd Morrison go?"

Cena looked over, wincing. "Chasing that freak. Shit. Uh..." Cena looked back and forth, wincing, then shrugged in frustration. "Fuck! Going after him. Josh, stay with her, gather up everyone, um...come up with a plan! Keith dude, with me, hurry!" He turned and ran the way they had gone, Keith running behind him, trying to reload his pistol as he went.


	12. Chapter 12

Morrison wasn't a person who flew off the handle often. He liked to stay calm, cool, and collected, and use his composure to be able to stay a few steps ahead of opponents. A flashy style like his just didn't hold up well under the stress of unadulterated rage.

Still, he felt really good about the idea of going completely postal on the enormous bastard he was hot on the heels of. He'd only managed to get off a couple of shots from the gun, he wasn't sure how many there were left, but that was all right. He felt confident that he could outlast the prick in a running contest and when the huge son of a bitch finally collapsed, Morrison was going to be ready for him. There had to be at least one bullet left and that was one bullet more than he needed to finish Alexander off.

"Johnny! Johnny, wait!" His arm was grabbed, but Morrison grunted and shrugged off the grip, still running, eyes locked on the back of the enemy as he was sprinting away.

"I'm not letting him get away, Jeff! He's a sick evil fuck and he's obviously not gonna just go away and I'm gonna end it!"

"Johnny, we can't do this, we need to get back with the others, we need to get the hell out of here!"

"You go back, you get out of here, this is personal!"

"Johnny, I'm not leaving you alone, now come on, we need to go back!"

Morrison didn't answer, Alexander had ducked around a corner and he was determined to catch up before the guy could slip away. He dug in, starting to sprint around the corner, almost stumbling in his haste to catch up to the bastard.

He saw a second too late that Alexander was waiting for him around the corner, and felt the kick in his chest just as he realized it was coming. He let out a strangled gasp of pain from the force of his own momentum being brought to a halt, knocked backwards onto the pavement hard enough to cause him to somersault backwards before landing splayed on the sidewalk, aware once again a second too late that the gun had come out of his hand as he fell and had landed at the giant bastard's feet, and he was already scooping it up.

"Johnny!" Jeff came skidding to a stop, not seeing what had happened, and before he could turn, Alexander had lashed out, grabbing hold of his forearm and yanking him backwards, slinging his free arm around Jeff's neck. Jeff grunted, grabbing at his arm and trying to pop loose of the headlock, but even as he did, the barrel of the gun jammed into his temple.

"Quit moving or I'm gonna see what color your head is on the inside," Alexander smirked, tightening his hold enough to ensure escape wasn't going to be easy.

"Jeff!" Morrison gasped out, scrambling to his feet.

"And here we are again, twice in the one day," Alexander purred. "It's almost enough to make a man think maybe you two like hanging around me."

"Get your goddamn hands _off_ me!" Jeff snarled, still pushing at the man's arm, but Alexander jabbed him with the gun hard enough to cause a spike of pain, warning Jeff to keep still.

"Krugman ain't here to tell me no, either," Alexander said, grinning. "I think that means I can have him."

"Let him go," Morrison said, holding his hands up some. "Just...just take it easy, okay, just let him go..."

"You were trying to use this on me, you know," Alexander replied, holding up the gun, but slapping it back to Jeff's temple when removing it caused Jeff to start squirming and struggling again. "You shot at me and you were going to try and kill me and I haven't done one thing to you. Hell, I've been a pretty nice guy, I think."

"Look, let him go, you don't have to hurt him..."

"I know I don't have to hurt him, you idiot. But why wouldn't I?" Alexander smiled nastily. "I _like_ hurting people. I like it a fucking lot. Why else would I have taken a job like this? I get paid to freak people out all damn day long, torture them all I want to. Shit, everyone they have doing the grunt work is someone they pulled out of a prison, gave us this as our third option...do you have any idea about the kind of crap I can get away with now that I have government mandate to do it?"

Morrison winced, shaking his head. "You don't gotta do this, okay, you don't..."

"You get all scared and whiny when he's gonna get hurt, don't'cha?" Alexander roamed his eyes over Morrison wantonly. "All...hot and bothered, I'd say..."

"You son of a bitch..." Jeff growled.

"I've always had a special place in my heart for pretty boys," Alexander replied. "Between the two of you..." He paused a moment, then leaned his head down, sniffing deeply at Jeff's hair, his grin, if possible, getting even sicker. "I think the three of us could do some beautiful things together. Walk away from all this madness and just run away, go somewhere nice and quiet, just us...doctors from the testing said that was bad thought, they tried to get all these urges out of me, but I don't think they did such a good job, or maybe it's just that you two are so nice to hang around..."

Jeff grunted and pulled at Alexander's arm frantically, trying to wriggle away even with the gun at his head, but the giant just tightened his hold, taking a step back against the side of the building. "Let me _go_!" he hissed. "Let me go, goddamnit!"

"Please..." Morrison said softly. "Just let him go, you might hurt him by mistake..."

"I'm not gonna shoot him unless you make me...Johnny, was it? I'm just gonna scooch back here a little bit, wait on my ride to find me, and then we're going away. You can come or not, but I would like it very much if you did..."

"Just let go of him," Morrison pleaded. "I...I'll go with you, I will, okay? But you have to let him go, please, he's...he's got a family to get home to, you can't-,"

"Everybody's got a family, Johnny, that don't make nobody special," Alexander said. "All the pretties I've played with before have families, every subject the government gave me for fun had a family." He leaned in again, lowering the gun to hold it under Jeff's chin, forcing him to tilt his head back and stop his struggles, nuzzling his nose against Jeff's cheek lightly, then suddenly flicking his tongue against his captive's skin. "I like the two of you..."

"Oh God, please...stop it, please..." Morrison said softly, holding up his hands. "Let him go..."

"Maybe if you beg me real pretty..." Alexander said, taking the barrel of the gun and trailing it down Jeff's front, stopping it just below his belly button, leaving it pointed downwards in a vaguely lewd position. "Maybe if you drop down on your knees and beg me, let me see what it looks like, I might do something nice for you."

"Stop it!" Jeff gasped out, trying to push the weapon away, going still when Alexander just used that arm to pull him in closer, almost embracing him, the other arm still around his neck. "Johnny, don't!"

"Beg me," Alexander said, the slightly jovial tone dropping from his voice, taking on a menacing growl. "Beg me or else, Johnny."

Morrison winced, but slowly dropped down to one knee, still holding his hands up. "P-please let him go...don't hurt him...just please don't hurt him..."

"Hey!" Cena's voice broke in, as he and Keith came rushing up from the street, Keith already brandishing his weapon at Alexander. "Let him go and back off, you fuck!"

"Make me!" Alexander snarled, cramming the barrel of the pistol back to Jeff's temple, even as Keith stepped up, aiming his own gun. "Put it down or I'll blow his brains all over the street!"

"You're a sociopathic sadistic monster and if I put my gun down, you'll take him away and do worse than kill him," Keith replied evenly. "I know all about the kind of shit you were in prison for, and why the government brought you in, and what you did to the subjects you were put with. Letting you shoot him in the head would be the kindest thing I could do." Keith drew back the hammer on the back of the gun. "Let him go or I'm going to kill you."

"You wouldn't have the balls, you sack of shit!" Alexander shouted, whipping the gun away from Jeff to point it at Keith. "I'd-!"

The instant the gun was pointed away, Jeff threw back his foot, landing a hard mule kick between Alexander's legs, causing the giant to let out a strangled yip of pain, which was enough distraction for Cena to charge forward, jumping and tackling him hard, slapping at the arm holding the gun. The gun went off, deflecting harmlessly into the street and sending chips of concrete flying, and Jeff shrieked but was able to duck and twist himself away, scrambling forward and out of grabbing range, as Alexander was knocked to the ground, Cena wrestling his arm down to keep the weapon pointed away from them.

"You got some serious fucking issues, buddy!" Cena growled, grabbing the gun and managing to wrench it away, tossing it behind him. "You got some-,"

"Tabula Rasa!" Alexander abruptly shouted out.

The change was instant. Cena had been drawing his fist back to start punching the lights out of the giant, but the instant those words left Alexander's mouth, Cena's body went completely rigid, and he toppled sideways onto the sidewalk, blinking dumbly up at the sky. Alexander was up in a second, turning and bolting down the street as Keith moved closer and knelt beside Cena. "Hey...hey, buddy? Hey, are you all right?"

Cena blinked a few more times, then jolted as though coming out of a deep sleep, grunting and sitting up quickly. "What the hell...what happened? Where are we?"

"Are you okay? It was like you just froze up for a second."

"I what? I just...where's the freak?" He glanced around, getting back to his feet. "Crap, did he get away? Wait, how's...?" Cena turned, looking over. "Jeff?"

Jeff was huddled on the sidewalk, leaning against the building, staring after the way Alexander had run. Morrison was already at his side, reaching out to touch his shoulders. "Jeff? Jeff, are you okay?"

"Don't...don't touch me..." Jeff said softly, still staring after Alexander, reaching up to brush away Morrison's hands.

"Jeff, it's okay, it's over with..." Morrison said, trying to touch his arm.

"I said don't touch me!" Jeff practically leapt to his feet, one hand over the side of his head where the gun had been, the other resting at the base of his throat as though to guard it from attack.

"Hey, are you okay?" Keith asked, carefully moving to tuck his pistol away.

"No! No, okay, I am not fucking okay! I am not okay! I've been shot at, nearly blown up, held hostage twice, I'm not okay! I just nearly got molested and killed by a fucking sadist pervert because the government had to fuck around with my brother's girlfriend's dead husband and I am not okay!"

"Jeff, calm down, man," Cena started to say.

"Come on, Jeff, it's all right," Morrison interrupted him, trying again to grip his shoulders, but Jeff jerked away from him.

"This was your goddamn fault!" he screamed, voicing taking on a shrill note. "I told you to stop, I told you we had to get back and you just had to go off after him like for no fucking reason because you got pissed he touched me before and you almost got me fucking killed so just shut up about how all right it is when this is your fault!"

Morrison flinched at the words, but Keith's voice took on a measured level of calm, the practiced voice of someone who had talked people down hundreds of times before. "Jeff, you're getting hysterical. It's over with now and you need to take a breath, be calm, think about what you're saying-,"

"I'm perfectly calm!!" Jeff stepped back some, starting to shake his hands out as though to remove some offending substance. "I'm perfectly calm and fine and sane and normal and we need to go back, all right?? We have to get the fuck away from this godforsaken place!" He turned back the way they'd come, setting off at a brisk and somewhat awkward pace, still shaking out his hands and brushing at his arms, voice cracking as he called back to them. "Hurry up!"

Keith looked to Cena. "I think your friend is reaching the end of his proverbial rope," he said, turning to follow after him.

"We shouldn't be having to deal with this shit," Cena muttered, looking to the stricken Morrison. "Come on, man, we gotta move. He's just freaked out and I can't really blame him. He'll settle down in a little bit."

Morrison sighed softly, nodding and starting after them. "Yeah...okay..."

"If that creep comes back again, maybe you better let one of the rest of us handle him. He pushes your buttons a little bit too hard. Besides, he's a big dude, maybe, you know, too big for you to handle alone. Just...you know...there's plenty of reasons not to go after him."

Morrison nodded morosely, sighing. "Whatever I gotta do."

Cena started to say something else, but stopped when there was a loud honk, and he glanced up, blinking at the sight of a white hearse, of all things, pulling up from around the corner. "What in the hell is this now?"

The front passenger's window rolled down, and Chavo leaned out, waving to them. "Get in!"

"You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me."

Josh leaned over from the driver's seat, yelling. "Hey, don't run off and leave me alone and tell me to come up with a plan and then poo on it when you see it. I only have the one plan, and it pretty much involves stealing the nearest large vehicle and running away with it, and it was either this or a refrigerated truck. Now get in!"

Cena closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, but hurried around to the back door, which swung open, revealing the others settled on the floor in the back, squashed together as best they could. "Please tell me you didn't have to shove a body out of here to steal it."

"Just get in!" Batista spat.

Cena shook his head. "This is ri-goddamn-diculous," he muttered, gesturing for Jeff, Morrison, and Keith to crawl in first before scooting in himself, reaching out to grab the large back door and yanking it closed, and Josh pulled off again, heading down the street.

"So what now?" Beth asked, wincing, still holding her head.

"We get far away, hopefully far enough away...then we can look for the tracker and hopefully remove it..." Keith said, shifting a bit to try and get comfortable in his spot against the hearse's wall.

There was silence for a bit, none of them feeling the mood to converse much at the moment. Before the silence could stretch out too long, Rey, in a soft, tremoring voice, whispered something unintelligible to Eddie, who smiled some.

"That's right, holmes," he said back to whatever Rey had asked him. "Told you we wouldn't let him get you, and we didn't."

Rey chewed his lip, lowering his head as though to think this over. "So...so he really can't just grab me back when he wants."

"He can't. You're safe from him now, Rey-Rey."

"So...so I guess...maybe this isn't really Hell?" He looked up at Eddie, a so-far foreign but not at all unwelcome expression of hope darting momentarily across his face. "You're gonna take me home?"

"We're going to take you home." Eddie nodded, hugging him closer. "It's all going to be okay soon, I promise."

From where he was sitting across from them, Batista allowed himself a faint smile. That was the first time so far that Rey seemed to have thought about that what they were telling him was the truth and what the hospital had driven into him might not be. It wasn't much, it certainly made no promises that Rey was even close to really believing them and he certainly wasn't yet recovering from what he'd been through. But it was something, it was a start. It was the first hint that he might be able to find his way back from the edge of insanity, that there was something left to save and not just a damaged shell.

Now so long as the rest of them could hold themselves together until this was done, they'd be in the clear. That might actually prove to be the hardest part of this whole situation. Batista leaned back and closed his eyes, focusing on taking long, deep breaths. It would be impossible to relax just yet, but going through the motions helped to put his mind at ease. Right now they needed every little bit they could get.


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you sure this is the best idea?" Chavo asked from the front seat. The hearse had a small panel in the window between the front seat and the coffin compartment, and he was turned around to talk to the others in the back while Josh was still driving. "I mean, you said those guys could track us and we don't know how close they might still be..."

"We have to try to do this," Keith said, sitting in the middle of the group, holding that same piece of machinery, leaning over Rey. "I've got this thing zoomed in far enough that I should be able to pinpoint where in Rey's body this chip is, and if it's close enough to the surface, we can take it out and get rid of it. That'll throw them off our trail enough to be able to keep them from finding us."

"How exactly would you 'take it out'?" Eddie asked, hugging Rey close as Keith held the scanner thing over Rey, starting to move it around some.

"Well...unfortunately, if it's too deep inside, we can't...and if it is somewhere we can get at it, it'll have to be with a knife and we'll have to cut it out."

"Do you know how to do that?" Batista asked.

Keith blew out a breath, still running the scanner over Rey. "I saw them put enough of them into people, I've been part of plenty of disgusting procedures in this. Not to mention I've had some training in emergency first aid from my organization. I think I can figure it out."

"What is your organization?" Cena asked from the wall he was pressed against. "And are they going to be able to clean out this shit that's been stuck in mine and Rey's heads?"

"Me? I'm a member of DSA...Defense Security Agency. Agent Morales...Marcia...she was FBI. We had other team members from the CIA, Homeland Security, the CSIS, that's Canada's version of our intelligence agencies...we had a lot of agencies working together. Bettler's snipers wiped out the main force but there's others like me who can testify to what we've seen, there's more files out there." He glanced at Cena. "And hopefully, yes, we'll be able to 'clean your heads'."

"Then why are they still chasing after us?" Eddie asked.

"I don't know, really. Best I can figure is, despite all that, despite paperwork and human testimony, Rey's still the only piece of actual physical evidence there is. Granted, our paperwork and our testimony will be devastating, but they must think they can still work around it simply because the story is so fantastic that people won't believe it. He's their damnation, for lack of a better phrase."

"Do you have people you can call to help us? Somewhere we can go to get away?"

"Not who can help us right now. My contacts are in Washington, too far away now. I can alert them to what's happening, and they can mobilize and start towards us, but without keeping them constantly abreast of our location, we can't count on them finding us."

"Maybe you should do that, man," Cena said. "It wouldn't hurt to at least notify a cavalry that they could be needed."

"I can do that next time we stop..." Keith stopped the scanner, over Rey's legs, then nodded, setting it down. "Rey, do you have any noticeable scars on your legs?"

"Um...um, yeah, I've had a lot of surgeries on them..." Rey said softly.

"Okay...let's get your pants rolled up some and I'll take a look."

Rey looked up at Eddie, but he pulled his knees up slightly and helped pull his pants up enough to expose his knees, showing the scarring on both legs, particularly the left. Keith lifted the scanner again, looking at it, frowning, fiddling with it, moving it back and forth, and finally nodded, reaching down to touch Rey's left knee lightly. "In there."

"In there?" Batista asked.

"Whenever possible, the scientists tried to insert the trackers in places that were already damaged. It's not exactly painless to have a microchip embedded in your body so they needed a way for people not to notice an occasional wiggle of pain."

"Well...my knees hurt a lot so I...I guess I wouldn't have noticed anything unusual about it..." Rey murmured.

Keith probed at his leg lightly, wincing, then nodded, touching a spot in the middle of one of the scars lightly. "There. I can feel it there. Just under the skin. Probably won't be very hard to get."

"I don't like this plan," Eddie said, frowning. "Just cutting into him like that? With nothing for pain or anything? You aren't even a doctor."

"No, I'm not, and I don't like the idea either, but we have to get that thing out so they can't trace it anymore."

"But we'd still need medicine and bandages and things to keep it from being infected...maybe we should just take him to a hospital and let them take care of him."

"We can't just go to a hospital. First of all, you guys would be noticed pretty much immediately. Second, unless he was critically wounded, no one would look at him for hours, and that would be more than enough time for the scientists to track him down. Third, we can't be certain they haven't got plants at any of these hospitals. I know they completely overtook most of the areas their buildings are in, but I'm pretty sure they've at least got eyes in every other major locale to look out for any escapees or people who might be getting too close to the truth."

"This is bullshit!" Beth spat. "What kind of fucking monstrosity branch of psychopaths could have this much power and this much sway?"

"There's been projects like this going on for a long time," Chavo said from the front seat. "There was stuff like this Project MK-ULTRA thing I read about once, they did stuff like expose soldiers to diseases and pump prisoners full of LSD and weirdness like that, trying to figure out brainwashing or...something."

"And wasn't that movie Manchurian candidate based on a true story?" Josh piped up.

"That might have been the MK-ULTRA, too. I don't know, I have seen lots of books about those government conspiracy things, and you know ol' Jesse Ventura has ranted about them..."

"Jesse went crazy about three years ago and no one seems to have noticed," Eddie muttered. "Look, I don't think we should do this. There's all kinds of vital things that run through your legs and if you nick something or...you know...Rey'd be in big trouble of dying..."

"He's in big trouble of dying if we don't do it," Keith replied. "Or even worse than dying if they just take him back and re-insert him into the experiments."

Rey's face paled visibly. "Back with Kane?" He looked up at Eddie, shaking his head furiously. "Don't let me go back with Kane, Eddie, please...I'll do anything we have to do, just don't...I don't wanna go...don't wanna go back with Kane, please, don't wanna go back with Kane..."

Eddie chewed his lip, then hugged Rey a little closer. "You won't go back with Kane, Rey, no one is going to let that happen."

"If there's something in my leg that they can use to find me, I want it out, Eddie, I want it out now, as fast as we can, I don't want them to find me anymore, I don't want to be...I don't want to be _tagged_, like an animal, I don't want that thing in me anymore...if Keith can take it out, I want him to take it out, I don't want it in there. Please, Eddie? Please, I just...I don't want it in there anymore..."

Eddie sighed softly. "I just...we've lost you once already, Rey...we lost you and now we have you back, I don't want to risk going through losing you again...not when we're so close to saving you..."

"I know...but I want this thing out of me...I don't want to be found, I don't want to know that they can follow me anywhere..."

Eddie nodded somewhat, though with obvious reluctance. "All right...all right." He looked up at Keith. "What do we need?"

"Well, it feels like it's just under the skin. I can just make a small incision, and I'd need some tweezers or a forceps to get a grip on it and take it out. Then I guess some antibiotics for the wound and bandages. Probably won't be severe enough to need stitches, so long as we're careful with him and he doesn't walk or jerk it around too much."

"Where can we get that sort of stuff?"

"Most department stores with a big enough stock will have them. It's not like an actual surgery, more like...a really big, moderately deep splinter."

"So I need to find a store so we can get that stuff?" Josh asked.

"Yeah. Then we need to find a quiet spot somewhere out of the way and...get it done..."

( )

Chavo sat on the picnic table, resting his chin in his hand, staring out at the woods. They'd found a camping area, which was understandably deserted for this time of year in Canada, and Josh had pulled in and parked there. They had found a Wal-Mart and stopped just long enough for Keith to run inside and buy the supplies he needed, then driven another hour before finding this place. Now Keith, Rey, Eddie, and Batista were the only ones in the hearse, door shut, while Keith worked on removing the tracking chip from Rey's leg. The rest of them were sitting around, trying to stay out of the way, and he'd picked the table closest to the car to sit on, just waiting.

"Hey," a voice came from behind him, and Josh hopped up to sit next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," Chavo answered frankly. "Like when this is over I'm going to go to bed and stay there for a day or two."

"Yeah. Mine's more like the kind of exhaustion where I want to sit up all night watching Spongebob and not having to think."

Chavo snorted. "When you have kids around and you get forced into watching that show, it starts to lose what little appeal it ever had."

"Yeah, but it's the best kind of brainless entertainment."

Chavo shook his head a little, wincing when there was a faint cry of pain from the hearse, but it died down quickly. "All they gave him was some fucking Tylenol. They're just cutting him in there."

"It's the only option we had, Chavo. Rey knew it, he understands what's happening now, at least enough to be able to go with this."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it." He ground his teeth slightly, visibly, even with his chin still resting idly in his hand.

Josh studied him a moment, then looked over at the hearse, quiet for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "By the way...I'm sorry I fussed at you last night."

"Last night?" Chavo glanced over at him.

"Yeah. When you and Morrison were fighting about Jeff. I kind of yelled at you a little. I'm sorry. I was just...tired and cranky and lashing out, I guess."

"Well...it was late and all. And it was a bad time I guess."

"For what it's worth, I understood your point. Granted, I don't think there was really anything we could do by that point...sending Jeff away on his own would have been more dangerous. But I could definitely see where you were coming from."

"It's not even that I really think Jeff would be capable of doing something like that," Chavo said, shaking his head. "I really don't. But you know how you get a thought in your head sometimes that you just can't let go, and I just...I really had just wanted to talk to Jeff, make sure his head was in the right places, kinda reassure him if he was having those thoughts, you know? I didn't anticipate Morrison getting into things. Fuck, I didn't even know they were together...like that."

"I'm not sure how together they actually are. Kind of an odd relationship."

"Still. There's one there and it bit me in the ass in the worst way."

"Don't worry about it, Chavo. You're just looking out for Rey. Morrison and Jeff both realize that."

There was another shrill scream and frantic whimpering from the hearse, leaving them both silent for a moment until it passed. Chavo groaned, rubbing his forehead some. "I just feel so damn guilty about all this."

"About what?"

Chavo shook his head some. "Before Rey died...before he was taken...he and Eddie being tag champs. I went out of my way to be a bastard to him. I guess I was jealous...I don't know, I just...I don't know. I was fighting with him and I almost had Eddie worn down and then the hotel...and he was gone, and we thought..." Chavo looked over at Josh, tears visible in his eyes. "I thought I'd ruined everything. I thought I'd fixed it that the last Rey remembered of us was anger..." He wiped his eyes almost angrily, apparently ashamed of tears. "Eddie was...we stuck it out, but I could tell for a long time, there was this...this rage towards me. I don't know if he actively blamed me but he was grieving and angry and..."

Josh nodded some. "I remember. You guys were fighting for a while."

"I really did feel so bad about it...I really did. I was just acting out and then I cost Eddie Rey and then Rey was gone and there was no way to make things up, no one to apologize to..." Chavo looked over at the hearse. "And now there is...and I don't know if Rey even registers what I did to him anymore. After all the horror and..." Chavo put his face in his hands. "He'd have been splitting a room with Eddie otherwise and maybe this wouldn't have happened to him..."

Josh shook his head. "That's not true. If anything, it would've just gotten Eddie...too. From what that doctor Krugman guy said, they were going to take Rey no matter what...no matter who they had to go through to do it."

Chavo put his thumbnail in his mouth, apparently chewing at it. "According to those files, they even went so far as to brainwash him into thinking I went and turned on him after they said...even the fucking science people cast me as a bastard." He looked over at Josh. "I _am_ a bastard."

"You aren't a bastard, Chavo."

"Why not? Everything I do is selfish and evil, people see me as selfish and evil-,"

"You're here, aren't you? You've been fighting in the trenches right along with the rest of us, you charged at Kane like he owed you money...freaking _Kane_, man. There's nothing selfish about this."

Chavo shook his head slowly. "I can't just snap my fingers and be rid of guilt."

"No, but maybe doing this is a way to help scrub your soul clean."

"You're just not gonna let up, are you?"

Josh smiled. "I'm a pit bull."

"I'll buy you a T-shirt that says so when we get home." Chavo looked over as the door to the hearse swung open, and Keith slid out, holding a handful of bloody bandages and wrappings and carrying them to a nearby trashcan, tossing them in.

"We're finished," he announced, holding up a small black square, shiny and slick with blood. "Rey's all right. It was right under the skin like I thought."

Chavo and Josh, along with the others, who had been scattered around, came closer to look. "That thing's tiny," Morrison said softly.

"We need to get rid of it and get out of here fast," Josh said. He glanced around, then pointed. "Over there, there's a bathroom."

"What about it?" Keith asked.

Josh took the small chip, running over to the small brick building and slipping inside. There was a sound as though a toilet paper roll was being unspooled, a moment of silence, and then the loud flush of the toilet. He came back out, brushing off his hands. "There. Let them chase plumbing for a little while."

"Good idea." Keith looked back at the others. "Now load in. We need to get moving quick so we can hide our trail."

"Where do we go from here, then?" Beth asked, as they all started clambering in, trying to ignore the bit of blood on the floor and the fact that Rey was curled up in Eddie's lap, whimpering and crying softly, his leg encased in bandages, with Batista looking on in obvious discomfort and squeamishness.

"First we need to find someone who can tell us exactly where we are now," Cena said. "Then we can figure out what's next."


	14. Chapter 14

Jeff was leaning against a tree a short distance from the others, arms crossed, staring at the road they'd driven in on. Ostensibly, he was keeping an eye out for anyone else who might come in after him, but in truth, it was just as much of a chance to just stand away and on his own for at least a little while.

It was quiet enough that after a couple of minutes he was able to hear the sound of the ground crunching under hesitant steps, and he didn't have to turn around to know who it was. But he didn't say anything until Morrison was standing next to him, head down somewhat.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," Jeff answered.

"Listen, I'm sorry about-,"

"Don't be sorry, Johnny," Jeff said, turning towards him. "It wasn't your fault. I just lost my cool and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry."

Morrison reached out to take his hand. "But you had a point. You were only in that situation because of me, and I'm sorry, too. I won't go off chasing after that big bastard again, especially not if there's a chance it'll put you in any danger."

Jeff leaned back against the tree again, watching the road. "I'm not cut out for this stuff. It's one thing to be in the ring, in an environment where there's people around and help's on the way...and you know, about the worst you have to deal with is Randy Orton. It's not like the entire company is out to get you and they all would just as soon see you dead as look at you...you know, I mean, I can handle getting beat up, but...this is something else entirely." He looked at Morrison. "Being a professional wrestler is a far cry from being a soldier."

Morrison nodded a little. "I don't exactly think any of us knew we'd be walking into a war quite like this. But we're here now and we need to do as best as we can."

"Maybe my best is going to be to just stay out of the way..."

"You've done fine, Jeff. You stopped the van when they were trying to steal Cena, for God's sakes. I don't know if I'd have hurled myself off the top of a roof to stop a moving vehicle."

"And you knocked out a guy with a gun with nothing but your foot."

Morrison stepped to his side and put an arm around his waist, just standing with him. "We've got our parts we play. Everyone's got a strength and a weakness. Just like a really overpopulated tag team. We just gotta try to keep playing to our strong parts and keep away from our weak parts. So no more fighting the enormous wannabe rapist for you and I anymore."

Jeff's mouth quirked slightly. "Too bad we couldn't have brought Khali or Big Show with us. They'd be even bigger than that freak."

"Well, next time we're going to race off to rescue our former coworker from a bunch of mad scientists, we'll remember to grab one of those guys on our way out."

Jeff chuckled at that, and Morrison laughed as well, glad Jeff was proving his own resiliency. Getting frightened and going a little mental right after an attack was one thing, but being able to recover and come right back showed that despite what anyone, even Jeff himself, might think, Jeff was just as tough as the rest of them. He could take this as long as any of them could.

( )

Beth was settled on a bench a little bit away from the hearse in the park they・d taken as their temporary refuge, rubbing her head and wishing like hell she had something more than the most basic of painkillers to ease the tremendous ache radiating around her skull. She was doing her best to keep from letting the men know that she was hurting, she didn・t want them feeling like they・d need to baby her. But fuck, that enormous fucker kicking her like that had dimmed her lights for a few seconds and the pain hadn・t yet let up. She knew she wasn・t concussed and that was good, but good didn・t exactly matter to the pain.

"Heya," she heard, and she glanced up quickly, practically snapping her hands down by her side in what she realized a second too late would just make her hurt more obvious. Cena was standing in front of her, holding a paper cup from the water fountain, holding it out. "Want a drink?"

"Don't suppose your superpowers include turning this into a stiff shot of vodka, do they?" she asked, reaching out to take it, sipping at it as Cena walked over and settled onto the bench next to her, drinking from his own cup.

"That's Jesus, not Superman. You want Shawn for that."

"Oh right. Mixing my superheroes." Beth finished off the cup of water and absently crushed it in her hand, grimacing at the sound of a shout of pain from the hearse, not the first and not the last they were going to hear. "How long do you think this is going to take?"

"I don't know. I'm sure they want to hurry and get things done and get out of here, before those suckers can track us back down. But I doubt that Keith guy is going to just slash and grab on Rey's leg, he's probably going to be as careful as he can manage."

"Great. So those guys could still have a chance to catch up to us."

"I don't think they will just yet. We fled pretty far, pretty fast. Surely we have at least enough time to do this and get out of here."

"Hope you're right," Beth said, wincing as she set the cup down on the ground.

Cena nodded, sipping his water, falling silent for a moment. Finally he asked, "How's your head?"

"It's fine," Beth answered automatically. "I've taken worse."

"I know you have. You're an absolute beast. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

Beth glanced at him and shrugged slightly. "It'll be all right. If I were concussed or anything like that, we'd know already."

"Still. We might could find a place to stop and get you some stronger medicine for it..."

"I don't need anything, John, but thanks anyway."

Cena glanced back at her, then nodded some, shrugging. "All right. Just thought I'd ask." He chuckled faintly. "Josh tells me that I owe you a favor anyway, that you were really looking out for me while I was, uh...out."

"Don't read too much into it. You were sick as a dog and I felt like I was the only one enough in my right mind at the time to try and make you feel better. Besides, you've been more or less our leader since this whole mess started, what with Batista and Eddie being distracted taking care of Rey and..." Beth stopped, her voice trailing off slightly, and she rubbed her temple slightly, closing her eyes.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I just can't get over what a weird thing it is to be able to say his name in the present tense." Beth glanced at him. "He died...or we thought he died before I ever even came to the roster, and yet there he is in there, he's...walking and talking and breathing and everything. Now that we've got a chance to just sit, I guess it's really hitting me."

Cena nodded slightly, chewing the inside of his cheek and looking back over at the hearse. "I know what you mean. After so long of it, to the point where it...it was the normal thing, I guess. Yeah, it's pretty damn weird. I imagine it's going to be even weirder once we get him exposed to the rest of the world and all this stuff gets out."

"If it gets out...I mean, we still don't know exactly what we're up against."

"It'll get out. This sort of thing can't stay quiet forever. Hell, it's more or less a miracle that it hasn't gotten out already. I mean, isn't there some saying about conspiracies falling apart under their own weight?"

"Maybe if it's not one that involves subjects who were 'killed off' and the workers are either in on it or insane prisoners who leap at the chance to get paid to commit the same crimes they were incarcerated for." She glanced back at him, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "You know our lives are pretty much over anyway, right? Our own boss is somehow in on this, and even if we get away with this, if we do blow open the entire government conspiracy and we do save Rey and we get through all of this alive, we're not gonna have jobs even if WWE doesn't get shut down in the scandal. I mean, if Vince can't handle someone smarting off to him and goes crazy if someone jumps ship off him, he's sure as hell not going to stand for us getting involved in whatever his government business is."

Cena nodded, sighing. "Well, that's the price of doing the right thing, I guess."

"And we're the ones who have to pay it. These government guys will probably get off with wrist slaps and warnings and end up doing even more atrocious things further down the road."

"Maybe not. Most likely the people who actually did most of the dirty work will get thrown under the bus and take it on the chin, and the ones at the top who can cover their tracks enough will know not to try anything like this again."

"You heard Chavo. This isn't the first time something like this has happened."

Cena reached over, putting a hand on her arm. "This time is different. We're gonna win this and things are gonna be okay."

Beth glanced at him, looking down at his hand a moment, then back at him, snorting and shaking her head a little. "You are nothing if not an eternal optimist, John."

Cena chuckled and grinned, shrugging slightly, abruptly taking his hand away as though suddenly aware of where he'd had it. "Still. Doesn't do us any good to get down and worry too much. Nothing we can do about what they're going to do, save what we're doing right now...getting that tracking device out of Rey's leg and then running like mad. If they can't follow us through that thing, they won't be able to find us again as long as we're careful not to get seen or do anything that they can use to find us...until we can get to the press and make our statement."

"You know...I was thinking. We need to figure out exactly where we've ended up..." Beth said, raising a hand somewhat, glancing at the hearse.

"Why is that?"

"Well, we might not can trust the folks we work with, we might not can trust our boss. But there's more than one wrestling organization in the world, and between the lot of us, we're bound to have at least one friend in just about every one that we can come across."

"So we go to someone else and ask them to help us," Cena said, awareness dawning along with a wide smile on his face. "Beth, you're a freaking genius, girl! We can find someone, get them to call a press conference for some kind of...something, we can figure it out, keep people from knowing what exactly it is so the government goons can't find us until the newsies have spread everything out already!"

"Well, that would work, but we can't go to just any old wrestling fed and hope for a decent response from the media."

Cena nodded, scratching his head a little. "Yeah...yeah..." He snapped his fingers, glancing back at her. "But we can go to TNA."

"Aren't they in Florida and we're kind of stuck in Canada?"

"You'd think. But there is a place we could go, Scott D'Amore's wrestling school, the Can-Am place. I think it's in Windsor, pretty close to Detroit."

"I thought he left-,"

"He did, but he still has enough ties, and the school is big enough and he's well-known enough that people will pay attention to him. And if we're close enough, we can get there fast and get this over with."

Beth straightened a little, blinking. "So...we have an actual plan now?"

Cena grinned. "We have an actual plan now. All right!"

"All right!" Beth said, holding up her hand, getting a high five from Cena. "Now we're going somewhere!"

"So we just have to worry about getting there. So as soon as they step out, we need to jump in the car and haul as much ass as we can to get going."

Beth nodded, smiling, glancing up at him. "Like I said, so far, you've been our leader."

Cena smiled back, and the two sat for a moment, contemplating each other, before Cena cleared his throat faintly and looked over at the hearse again. "So yeah. We have a plan."

Beth nodded again, looking at the hearse as well, sitting with her hands carefully folded in her lap. "Yup. We have a plan."

Cena bobbed his head somewhat. "Yup. Good thing to have."

Beth continued to nod, and they fell silent, glancing at each other, before the hearse door opened and Keith started to step out. Cena immediately popped to his feet, hesitated, then turned, offering her a hand to help her to her feet, dropping it by his side quickly when he saw she had already stood as well, and awkwardly wiping at the side of his jeans, then turning back to head for the back of the car, Beth silently walking along with him.

( )

Eddie was sitting with Rey, holding onto his hand and with an arm wrapped around him to try and help him hold still and to offer him support during the so-called operation. Batista was on Rey's other side, holding his other hand and also handing Keith any of the supplies he needed...towels, the antiseptic, whatever he asked for. He watched in silence as Keith worked, not sure he'd be able to bear looking at Rey's face. He could hear the small man letting out involuntary grunts and whimpers of pain, and he'd already screamed a couple of times at the initial slices, but Rey was clamping down fiercely on how much noise he was allowing, probably thinking he was fooling Eddie and Batista into thinking he wasn't hurting quite as badly as he was. Batista wanted to tell him he didn't need to bother, that there was no need to disguise his pain in front of them, but he also knew Rey was a proud man who relied heavily on projecting an aura of strength...he'd seen enough of it during the time he spent with Rey in the experiment and the short time they'd known each other in WWE. So he just let it go, allowing Rey to hang onto his hand and crush his fingers once in a while rather than scream.

"Getting there..." Keith murmured softly, taking the scalpel and slightly lengthening the cut in Rey's leg, pouring a bit of the antiseptic onto it as he did and immediately picking up a pair of tweezers that would open wide as well as close, using them to spread the cut open and see inside. Rey finally released a yell at that, and a fast, nearly involuntary glance backwards by Batista let him see that Rey had tears streaming down his face. But as fast as the shout came through, Rey clamped his teeth together and fought it back, squeezing Batista and Eddie's hands again.

"It's okay, Rey-Rey," Eddie cooed softly, hugging him closer and kissing his temple lightly. "Don't worry, _wowito_, it's going to be okay, it's going to be over sooner than you think, you'll be okay."

"Mm-hmm," Rey whimpered, closing his eyes as Keith kept working.

"Can you see anything?" Batista asked, looking back at the agent.

"Oh yeah..." Keith said, brow furrowing slightly. "I can see it right here. I'm just trying to get the forceps on it so I can take it out. It's just slightly embedded on this bit of muscle here so it's going to be a little tricky. Going to have to do a little bit of damage, I'm afraid."

"How much is a little bit?"

"Nothing permanent. Just enough that he'll probably need to keep from walking on it at least for a few days."

"I can carry him, it's not going to be any problem," Eddie said, not looking up from comforting Rey.

"Just hurry..." Rey whispered, voice quivering. "Just want it out."

"It's coming out, don't worry," Keith said, voice taunt with exertion. "Okay. I'm going to grab it and pull now. This is going to hurt, I'm afraid."

"Okay..."

Keith nodded, checking to be sure Eddie and Batista were prepared as well, then lowered his gaze, using the antiseptic to rinse away some of the blood and wiping at it with a towel quickly, getting a clear view of a small, black, almost glassy square. He adjusted the tweezers, then slowly closed them, feeling that he had his mark. He closed his eyes a moment, then gripped the tweezers, starting to pull upwards."

"Owwwwww!" Rey gasped, tossing his head back some, gritting his teeth again. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!"

"Shhhhh, it's coming, Rey, don't worry, it's gonna come out and you'll be safe then," Eddie said.

"Almost," Keith said, sticking out his tongue with concentration, and Batista watched as the tweezers, for just a moment, didn't move, and then, just when he had the terrifying thought that they couldn't remove the tracker after all, the tweezers abruptly shot upwards as though of their own volition, Rey screamed louder than ever, and Keith grunted, catching them before they bounced into the roof of the hearse, and he brought them down, studying the smooth black transceiver wedged between the two ends. "There we go, we got it now," he said.

Rey was sobbing softly, but Batista moved in, letting go of his hand to pick up the antiseptic and pour it onto the bloody wound again, then quickly picking up a roll of bandages and, with Eddie's help, lifted Rey's leg slightly and started to wrap it tightly, enough to be sure that the wound was pushed closed and the bleeding would quickly stop. There was already enough blood on the floor, not enough to cause any serious trouble but definitely a lot, and they wanted to be sure Rey wasn't going to lose any more than absolutely had been necessary.

"You did great, Rey, you did great," Eddie was soothing him, rubbing his shoulder and hugging him closely. "See, all over with now. They can't find you anymore, you're safe. You're going to be safe now."

"Gonna be safe now..." Rey repeated weakly, but with a faint smile as he leaned into Eddie, allowing Batista to finish taping up the injury. Batista couldn't help but smile himself, seeing that nearly unfamiliar expression on Rey's face. He'd smiled so little in all the time Batista had been with him in the program, almost never, and the rare times had all been when he thought there was nothing more going on than a hospital stay with bad nightly terrors. Seeing a genuine expression of joy on his face was enough to blur Batista's own eyes with tears. He couldn't say that, didn't see what it would gain to say it aloud, would only remind Rey of what he'd been through, make him think it over, so Batista bit his lip, and simply nodded to Keith.

"Better get rid of that thing and we'll get the hell out of here, see what our next move can be."

Keith nodded, moving to push the door open, calling to the others. Batista looked back, glancing at Eddie, who met his eyes silently. His face was oddly unreadable, unusual for him, as Eddie typically wore his emotions right out there on his sleeve. Batista wondered if it was a deliberate hiding, or if Eddie himself simply wasn't sure of his own feelings. At any rate, Batista simply helped him move Rey back and get comfortable as the others ran back at Keith's call, and after a minute, started to climb in.

"We have a plan other than just running away now," Cena announced as he entered. "A very good one, I think."

"Good," Batista said. "It's about time we did more acting than reacting. Where are we headed?"


	15. Chapter 15

For the record, I'm not bashing the government or politics or religion or anything in this chapter, save for just making use of things that have really happened for the sake of drama. The bad guys are bad guys who just so happen to be able to play the system against itself, not necessarily because the government itself is corrupt. It's just a story, just fiction, nothing more, so yeah. Just trying to head those flames off at the pass ;)

( )

Jeff frowned a little from where he was settled more or less in Morrison's lap, both of them squished into a corner of the compartment, holding his cell phone a little bit hesitantly. "I don't know about this."

"You're the only one of us who was ever in TNA, you know more about the people there than we do," Chavo said.

"You do understand that I wasn't even slightly in my right mind during that time in my life, right?"

"If people see a lot of TNA wrestlers suddenly showing up at D'Amore's school, it'll get noticed by the news people so they'll be more interested in a press announcement, and it won't make anyone suspicious that we might have anything to do with it. And anyway, you might have been a little...addled back then but it wasn't like you were a bad person who hung around bad people. And besides which, for the most part, we don't know any of those guys ourselves, or at the very least we don't know how we would call them without it being a little suspicious, that would get them talking about 'oh, hey, John Cena or Dave Batista called us.' It'd be less startling for you to call."

Jeff made a face. "I wasn't really that close with any of them..."

"Jeff..." Eddie said softly. He was holding Rey close, letting the smaller man rest against him. They'd given him a couple of extra Tylenol to try and help ease the pain left from the impromptu surgery, so between that and being completely exhausted overall, he had been easily lulled to sleep by the steady sound of the car. Since it was so far a much more peaceful sleep than the one of the night before, Eddie was being careful not to wake him. "Please just try. It's not going to ruin our plan if you can't convince anybody, but it's worth a shot to increase our chances anyway."

Jeff muttered a little, but opened the phone and stared at it a moment, motioning his thumb over the keypad as though trying to remind his fingers of a particular pattern, then dialed it, putting it to his ear and plugging the other with a finger to try and keep from being distracted, starting to talk quietly to whomever he'd called, leaning back against Morrison, who wrapped his arms around Jeff and just let him talk.

"Do you think there's really a big need to get a lot of other wrestler people at this school place you're going to?" Keith asked from the front seat, where Dave was driving again and he was taking shotgun, as they were the largest two and it would help the others have a bit more space in the cramped compartment.

"Look, you said your back-up may not be able to get to us very fast, and I'd be willing to bet it's because your guys have a lot of red tape and clearance and things like that to work their way through. Our's don't. I'll just feel better if we and D'Amore aren't the only ones there." Eddie chewed his lip. "Besides, with our boss involved, and knowing he got Dave and Kane to get involved too, I hate to say it but we just can't trust any of our coworkers..."

"But these...TNA people, aren't they your competition?"

"Our bosses are competing, sure," Chavo said. "But for the most part, that doesn't carry over to us. We're just guys doing our jobs. Always going to be people who just don't, but mostly we all get along fine."

"Wrestling is a family, man," Cena said, nodding. "We look out for each other against outsiders like...well, you, dude, no offense."

"But especially against people who want to hurt us," Beth said. "Or who have hurt us."

"Like the people responsible for all this."

"Speaking of which, since we have a bit of a drive ahead of us, and what should be a mostly safe one..." Josh said, looking over. "Maybe you could fill us in."

"Yeah, man, you were big in on this whole thing," Cena said. "You know a lot of what's happening or something. Spill."

Keith clicked his tongue once, rubbing his head a little. "It's a long story."

"It ain't like we've got a prior engagement to get to."

"All right, well..." Keith shook his head a little. "Chavo mentioned the MK-ULTRA project before, so...you know the American government, the Canadian government...hell, probably every government there is, to be frank...has already dabbled in experiments in mind control, Manchurian candidates, things of that nature. There's always been a desire for a perfect method of control, a way to really get into someone's head and be able to get anything out of them you want...or to get what you want out of enemy spies or combatants."

"That'd be one hell of a weapon to have," Batista said, sniffing and wiping his face slightly."Being able in any way to gain control over people whenever you want..."

"Exactly." Keith sighed softly, turning somewhat in the seat to be able to look back fully at them. "A few years ago, a government thinktank pieced together a chemical that acts as a sort of...well, 'blocker' isn't the right term exactly, but I can't think of a better layman's term for it, so it acts as a nerve blocker in certain areas of the human nervous system, particularly the sections involving memory and self-control. It would allow them to cause memory loss for several hours before and after the dosing, which seemed to cause the subjects to enter a highly suggestive state where they were somehow incredibly open to hypnotic suggestions, code-worded orders, things like that, without ever being able to recall that it had been done to them. What happened to you, Cena, was actually perfectly within parameters...it only takes a matter of minutes to get a single item pressed into place, which is apparently what Krugman did to you with that numbing command Alexander used on you."

"Great. Good to know," Cena said dryly.

"What about the fits he was in?" Beth asked. "He was screaming and trying to hurt himself..."

"Like I said...it has an effect on self-control. No matter what sorts of thoughts or sensations come wafting through a person's mind, they can't be resisted...and unfortunately, it seems that the most negative of impulses get brought to the surface...some kind of so-far unexplained side effect. The only good side is that it sedates them and usually also weakens a person's motor control so that they can't achieve much. Although in some cases, maybe about 10 to 15 percent, it would have the opposite effect, something similar to the freakish strength experienced by users of PCP or other drugs, where the subject would seem to actually _gain_ inhuman amounts of power."

"You were in that percent, John," Morrison said, shifting a bit to speak around Jeff, who was still mumbling on the phone. "There were a couple of times it took four of us to keep you down, and we barely managed it."

"The theory was that in that minority of the population, there was some sort of allergy or other factor that caused the difference, but last I had seen, the cause hadn't yet been determined with any accuracy. And seeing how there was no other difference of the drug's effectiveness besides that, I doubt any of the scientists involved actually bothered to check into it too deeply." Keith groaned a little, rubbing his temples as though to ease a headache. "Anyway...the first experiment they tried, on various captured terrorists and prisoners of war they could sneak past the Geneva Convention, was naturally using it to force them to give up whatever valuable information they had. But gradually, as much through accident as actual testing, they discovered that they could dose people to a point that they could cause them to not only forget real memories, but to establish brand new ones that would be held up under the most strenuous of circumstances. Then...one doctor in the study, Gladys Bettler, suggested that there was a truly extraordinary secondary use for the drug and requested...and got...permission to begin a whole new study around that use."

"Gladys?" Batista asked, blinking. "That Dr. Bettler I kept hearing about is a woman?"

"Some doctors are women, Dave," Beth said, smirking faintly.

"Oh shut up. It isn't the doctor part, it's the mastermind of an enormous government conspiracy part that threw me."

"Evil knows no gender," Eddie murmured softly, rocking Rey a little as he gasped and squirmed a moment in his sleep, then settled down peacefully again.

Keith sighed. "Gladys Michelle Bettler, age 46, a doctor of psychiatry, biochemical studies, and pharmaceuticals. She's a brilliant and highly motivated...if slightly immoral...woman who's done more to advance the study of the human mind than anyone else of this generation, as often as not through questionable scientific means. There were rumors that her father was involved in a British project similar to MK-ULTRA but I've never seen any confirmation in any of the files we have on her. That's all beside the point though. The point is, the study she visualized was a way to use the drug to erase and rewrite the memories of violent criminals and enemies of the state, in an attempt to see if programming them with new memories...essentially giving them a brand new life...would change their ways, cause them to no longer be the way they were..."

"Like nature versus nurture," Josh said. "She was throwing all her eggs in the nurture basket, thinking that rewriting a sociopath's life would stop them from killing people."

"Exactly. She believed that just by creating a new life for people would be enough to solve their problems, or at least give them more of an advantage over stopping them."

"But that's crazy," Josh scoffed. "Things like sociopathy, depression, things like that, they're as often as not biological, you can't just make them go away by erasing bad memories and putting in little happy sunshine ones in their place."

"But in some cases, there would be applications," Keith replied. "Soldiers returning from war, for example, would have their memories of the traumatic things they'd been through taken away, rape victims who wanted to go back to a normal life could have the memory of the attack taken away. It would essentially be the end of post traumatic stress as we know it. And there would be plenty of criminals who would benefit, people who did in fact end up going down the wrong road because of their early life experiences, who would as likely as not be put back onto the straight and narrow by having those experiences deleted."

"Deleted?" Chavo shook his head, scowling heavily. "Deleted. You say it like it's...like it's just no big deal. Deleted, as though people's brains were just any old laptop that you could just hit a button and have the virus scanner go through and clean everything up!"

"In a sense, that's exactly how this was considered. Bad memories, bad experiences, led to bad outcomes. Removing them removes the risk, makes life better for everyone."

"But it's...it's the start of such a slippery slope," Cena said, shaking his head, clearly getting more and more agitated. "I mean, first you're deleting bad memories to keep people from being bad people. But then who's to say what's a bad memory? I mean, some people take trauma and things like that and use it as a motivator, use it in a way to better themselves and the world. And you have to do bad stuff to learn from it, you know, like...like the whole those who can't remember are doomed to repeat thing. And like, who's to say that the next thing that'll happen won't be that some government guy won't go say, you know what, we can get rid of people's memories of...of...fuck, I don't know, their first bite of chocolate, every time they ate sweets ever after, then they wouldn't eat junk and they'd be healthy, make them forget about scandals that might cause them to vote out corrupt officials...and that's not even getting into what they did to me now, with this fall over in a mini-coma shit! They could take something this powerful and go way overboard with it, start unleashing it on the country to make a bunch of controlled drones!"

"It would probably be beyond the call of duty for them to start doing widespread brainwashing of everybody in the country," Josh said.

"Yeah, and it was beyond the call of duty for them to kidnap thousands of people to test this shit on, too! If I could think of it, you know there's some creep involved with the program who could think of it and would just be drooling at the thought of being able to dump this shit in the water supply and start playing tapes at night telling everyone to eat their vitamins and say their prayers! It only takes one asshole in the wrong position of power to start pulling this kind of crap!"

"You're preaching to the choir here, my friend," Keith said. "I'm on your side in this." He blew out a breath. "Besides, I have more to tell."

"Like what?"

"Like what's the point of all the things they were doing back at the hospital?" Batista asked. "Those bizarre scenarios and the staging of the mental hospital?"

"That's the last part. Dr. Bettler knew that the false memories that were placed seemed to be absolutely rock solid. But she also knew that the mind can be a tricky thing. She worried that as strong as the chemical seemed to be, that the erasure and replacements might still be deceptively superficial. She wanted to see if a person were put under a powerful enough stressor, if the falseness would be broken through to any degree and cause...problems. And being a devout student of the scientific method, she knew the best way to be sure was to gather as much of a random cross-section of the population as she could, work all of them over with the drug, and then...start hammering away at the false memories. So she collected a battery of data from places like the census and worked out a computer program to start selecting citizens at complete random, and arranged for them to be...brought in for testing by any means necessary."

"How could she get clearance to do something like that?" Beth asked. "Wouldn't the president or Congress or anyone have to approve something of that magnitude?"

"There's a lot of paperwork involved in government, a lot of things that require oversight. Even at the smallest it can be, governments tend to be big and bloated and without enough oversight to take care of accurately tracing every single thing. A little bit of muddy writing, a few bribes in the right places, not to mention more than one office in Washington overly concerned with national safety, it probably wasn't hard at all for her to convince the right people that this was all for the good of the country."

"Okay..." Chavo said, frowning. "So she manipulated the fears of the people in charge to get her way. But the test they were doing to Rey...the shit with Hell and...what was that about?"

"That was only one of about a dozen different tests the doctors and scientists came up with. Someone theorized that a heavily religious person, like Rey, might be easily broken down by a highly positive or negative spiritual experience, as it could prove the most intense thing that they could be put through. Religion is a very personal and very valuable tool to a true believer. There are documented cases of people experiencing miraculous healing, spontaneous stigmatas, visions and abilities, and the only scientific explanation is more or less the sheer power of faith."

"So they were trying to drive him to a point of a religious fervor...to see if he would use it to actually will himself back to normal?" Beth asked, somewhat skeptically.

"Not exactly that. There were two branches of the test...extreme positive experiences, and extreme negative experiences. Rey was involved in the second...they tested both religious and nonreligious people in both sets to see whether or not it would cause any losses, and it seemed that they were just about convinced it didn't. Like I said...it was only one of at least a dozen scenarios that the testers were trying to use to break the memories down. Every floor of the hospital had different tests going on. It wasn't even the first one they'd done to Rey. By the time you got involved, Dave, it was his fifth session of testing, and after the first four, his false memories were every bit as strong as they'd been from the first day." Keith chewed his lip. "Thank God for that, because it also means that more likely than not, he'll probably never remember the vast majority of the things that were done to him."

"What sort of things?" Eddie asked softly.

Keith shook his head, lowering his gaze, putting a hand to his forehead, going quiet a moment. Finally, he practically whispered a response, voice almost trembling. "I'm not going to tell you. It won't do you or anyone any good to know right now...or ever. Suffice it to say that they were things that no person, no matter what sort of heinous things they were capable of, could possibly deserve, and just having seen it done keeps me up at night. If he ever remembered...he'd be better off dead than living with that."

There was a somewhat shocked silence in the wake of that, with Eddie scooping Rey up and holding him even tighter, as though worried he could be snatched away again somehow. The quiet was broken by Jeff clearing his throat, and they looked over to see him holding the phone between his hands, watching them, apparently having been waiting for a break in the conversation to speak up.

"We're going to have some help at the school..." he said. "I got hold of Chris Sabin, and he's going to round up some people and meet us there in about a day. And he promised to call Scott and tell him to have some media on call to come."

"Does that give us time to get there too?" Batista asked, looking back at Josh, who had already taken a map, pilfered from the park they'd just left, and was looking over it.

"Yeah. If we stop to rest for the night, which I think we should, we can be there by tomorrow afternoon."

Jeff made a face. "I didn't exactly tell him what was happening," he said. "I didn't figure he'd believe me if I told him the truth, so I made up something about us wanting to jump ship but being afraid of Vince trying to do something to us...I don't know if he entirely believed that either but it was enough to convince him we needed help."

"Whatever you had to do, they'll understand the lie when they see what's really happening," Cena said, nodding.

"So what now?" Beth asked.

"We find a hotel, and an actual decent vehicle...Keith, will you be able to help us with that? We worry about being recognized..."

"I can do that," Keith said, nodding. "I think I'm with you guys from here on out, anyway."

"Good, thanks. Then we rest without having to stare over our shoulders for once...and then we get to Scott's school and we end this."


	16. Chapter 16

Keith came out of the motel office, walking around a ways to where the hearse was parked, nodding towards it and holding up three white cards. This motel was a little bit nicer than the last two had been, though it had been less of a factor in their decision as the fact that, like the motel in Pembroke, it had been close to a variety of stores, restaurants, and a car rental lot, so it would be easy for them to take care of themselves while still maintaining a low profile. Keith had asked for and apparently received three adjoining rooms, so that they would be able to have a little more space and relax more. He got into the front seat of the hearse again. "Only two of the rooms have two beds, the other one is just a single queen."

"That's fine," Batista said, putting the car into reverse and cruising down to their rooms, turning the car around and parking next to them so they could open the door on the back of the vehicle and more or less just step into their rooms. "We can split beds or find places on the floor or whatever. We just need to be able to stretch out and not be all crammed together for a while."

Keith nodded, handing him the keys. "I can go rent us a van or something and bring it back here, I'll leave the hearse in a parking lot someplace near a different hotel so even if anyone finds it and tries to look for us from it, they'll look somewhere else."

"Good idea. Thanks, man."

"Don't mention it. Like I said, I'm with you guys from here on out."

Batista nodded, looking back to see the others already climbing out, and opened his door. "Just be careful, Keith."

"I got it, Dave. Ain't nobody gonna get one over on me through this." He slid across the seat and behind the wheel, watching for a moment as Batista got out and went to join the others, opening the door for one of the room and all of them quickly hurrying inside. Eddie carried the still-sleeping Rey over to the bed as Jeff ran ahead and pulled the blankets back for him, letting Eddie lay Rey down. He pulled Rey's shoes off and undid the button of his jeans to try and make him a little more comfortable, then pulled the covers over him, straightening and watching him quietly.

"So what do we do now?" Jeff asked, looking around at the room. "We left most of our bags back in the van, we don't have our stuff..."

"I can go by myself and get some more clothes for us at one of the stores," Josh said. "And whatever else we might need."

"You sure you good to go alone?" Cena asked.

"I did start out my career as a wrestler, John," Josh said, seeming a little amused. "Besides, like I've said, I'm probably the least recognizable one of us, and some of us could use some toothbrushes."

"Do we still have any of our phones?"

Jeff nodded, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and taking it out. "I still have mine."

Cena took the phone, glancing at the phone and taking a moment to write down the number for it, then typed the number for the hotel room into the phone. "Okay. If there's any trouble, you can get hold of us and we can get hold of you. Are you sure you don't want one of us to go with you?"

"I'll be fine," Josh said again, waving a hand. "Just make me a list."

Chavo moved over to where there was a pad of hotel stationary, starting to write things down. "We need clothes and probably another first aid kit, huh?"

"A lot of stuff we can use to take care of Rey's leg, and Cena, we probably need to treat that burn of your's a little bit, too," Eddie said, gesturing. "Beth, how's your head feeling?"

"I'm fine," Beth said quickly. "I don't even feel anything anymore."

Cena shifted a bit, putting a hand to his side. "Well, I'm hurting a bit. If you can find something stronger than aspirin, I wouldn't mind it."

Beth raised an eyebrow at him, but Chavo wrote it down as well, then tore off the paper and handed it to Josh. "This should be plenty to get us through till tomorrow," he said. "And after that we should be all home free anyway so we won't need anything further." Josh nodded. "How much cash do we still have?"

"I have plenty," Batista said, standing and taking out his wallet, holding it out to Josh. "If you just use that and avoid the plastic, they probably won't be able to track us through that."

"I know, Dave, I've done this before," Josh said, raising an eyebrow, but taking the wallet and turning to head out.

"Let's see what we have in the way of ordering in here," Morrison said, stepping over and pulling open the bedside nightstand, taking out the phonebook and flipping through it.

Cena got to his feet, making a face. "Well, I'm wore out. I think I want to go next door and lay down a while. Beth, wanna come keep me company?"

Beth looked at him, blinking, then shrugged, getting slowly to her feet. "All right..." She followed him out. "Guess we're going next door."

Eddie nodded somewhat, then looked to the others. "Skittles, Johnny, maybe you guys go on down to the single room, relax down there. Dave or Chavito can see about finding somewhere to get food."

"Are you sure?" Morrison asked, looking up from the book, looking over at Jeff.

"I'm sure. You guys go and rest, we'll call you when food's on."

Jeff shrugged, and Morrison stood, handing the phonebook to Dave and following Jeff out. Batista walked over and sat where Morrison had been, staring down at the pages.

"Give them all a little alone time," Eddie said softly, sitting next to Rey and rubbing his shoulder lightly. "We've been all squished together for too long. Tempers are frayed enough as it is."

Chavo sat on the other side of the bed a bit gingerly. "Do you think we've really made it?"

"No, we haven't made it yet. But I think we're going to, Chavito. We got the tracker out of Rey's leg, we fled, Keith is covering our tracks from that hearse, and we have somewhere to go for help. We're going to make it. I know we are."

Chavo blew out a breath. "I wish I had your optimism, Eddie. I'm just worried that something else is going to happen. Some of the stuff those guys said when they attacked us was weird. They mentioned something about our 'data', that doesn't make any sense." He looked over at Dave. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Not to me, man. Unless they were just trying to fuck with our heads, keep us off guard or looking out for something new around every corner."

"It was all about mind games," Eddie said. "And those guys, the paperwork says most of them are ex-cons, they're probably all psycho and crazy, and we know for sure Kane is. They were just trying to scare us."

"Well, they succeeded," Chavo said, leaning back against the headboard. "I'm scared out of my fucking wits right now. I worry something bad is still coming."

"We'll just hope for the best," Eddie said. "Even if they are planning something else, we can't do anything more than what we've already done. We just gotta go with our plan for now and if anything goes down, then we deal with it. We've been coming out on top every time and we'll keep on coming out on top. I mean, we got no other choice, you know?"

Chavo shrugged, looking up at the ceiling, as Dave quietly kept flipping through the pages, marking down places that delivered. Eddie just looked back down to watch Rey sleep, falling silent as well.

( )

Cena held the door for Beth as she followed him, stepping into the room, turning and crossing her arms, waiting as he stepped in. The instant the door was shut, she lit into him. "What the hell is this about, Cena? You haven't said a word about being in pain all this time and all of a sudden you're all painful and want company with me? I already told you that my head is fine so if this is some smarmy little way you have of trying to do me a favor, I don't need anything-,"

Cena just looked down at her, then shook his head, turning and going to one of the two beds, flopping back onto it and kicking off his shoes. "Beth, I don't know what exactly happened to me, but just because I don't say anything doesn't mean I ain't hurting for real. I mean, I have a fucking cattle prod burn in my ribs. This is the first time we've had to just stop and rest and I intend to capitalize on that. I just thought you might want to take the same opportunity."

"Well I don't need your help, I'd be just fine without it."

"Awesome to know. By the way, I'm not offering you help because you're a girl, I'm offering it because you got smashed in the head by a huge bastard and I know that hurts. If you were Eddie or Jeff or any of the guys, I'd make the same offer. So down, girl."

Beth eyeballed him a moment more, then shrugged, going to the other bed and crawling onto it, flopping down and burying her face in the pillow. "Sorry. Force of habit," she muttered.

"Well, knock it off. I know you're holding your own with the rest of us. Hell, any of the other chicks would probably be screaming their head off by now...no dig to them though because Rey's completely gone and Jeff snapped hard already and frankly I halfway want to do that myself. But seriously, can you imagine if we'd brought Michelle McTwiggy or Maryse McNasty with us instead?"

"Mickie or Melina or one of those girls might be able to roll with it," Beth said, rolling her eyes faintly and turning her head enough to look at him.

"Yeah, mentally, maybe, but physically? They'd be in the hospital after that hit. You're the only chick in WWE brutal enough to roll with it."

"You're sweet," Beth said, raising an eyebrow slightly. "You can stop trying to stroke my ego any time now, though, it's starting to come on a little thick."

Cena shrugged. "Just sayin'. You're a badass. I appreciate that."

Beth groaned a little, putting her face back into the pillow. "I need a shower again. I need about ten showers. How hot do you have to get the water before it scalds your brain?"

"Probably hotter than a hotel shower can get. You're welcome to go ahead and go try it though."

"You just wanna see me naked," Beth said, smirking a little.

"Well judging from what you said earlier about the Internet, you've already seen me naked, so it would only be fair."

"I think everyone's seen you naked, John."

Cena snickered. "Oh be honest. You know you went on there specifically looking for pictures of me."

"Actually, I was looking for pictures of Randy Orton and found a whole website full of nothing but next to naked pictures of all you guys."

"You were looking for pictures of Randy Orton? The Voldemort of WWE?"

Beth snorted. "He's not that bad. As long as you're just looking and not having to actually interact with him in any way."

"I wouldn't know. I try not to look at him too much. But yeah, go ahead and grab a shower if you want, I can behave myself. I'm somewhat a gentleman."

"Liar." Beth rolled onto her back, stretching out some. "This is actually a pretty comfortable bed, though. The shower will still be there later. I just wanna lay for now. My back creaks every time I move. Riding in that hearse kicked my ass."

"Mine too. It's like...you know that thing where you lay down, and your back hurts really bad, but at the same time, it feels really good?"

"Oh God, I love that feeling," Beth said with a chuckle. "I always lay on the floor of my hotel room at the end of the night because that makes it feel really awesome."

"I've done that, too," Cena said. "But I'm not patient enough to get back to the hotel, I just flop down in the locker room."

"Not me. God only knows what's been on that floor."

"Like the hotel room floor is any better?"

"Well, yes. I've seen the floor of a hotel room being cleaned once in a great while." She smiled some. "Wow. An actual conversation without any of it involving how fucked we are or how the boogeymen are all out to get us. It's amazing how refreshing that is."

"It is nice. Let's keep doing it. So, why do you hate Tweety Bird?"

"Oh God, that is such a long story. See, I was like, six years old and it was my birthday..."

( )

Morrison hurried down to open the last motel door, stepping in, waiting for Jeff to enter before shutting the door, hesitating a moment before throwing the deadbolt as well. He turned and watched as Jeff stepped out of his shoes, then hopped onto the bed, jumping on it a couple of times before dropping down to sit, nodding. "Good mattress," he said.

"I'm amazed you've never put your head through a ceiling doing that," Morrison said, sliding onto the bed next to him.

"Well, there was this one time in San Francisco. There was alcohol involved...and Shane Helms was egging me on."

Morrison snorted, then laid back, blowing out a breath. "How are you holding up?"

Jeff shrugged a little, turning to lay on his front, hugging the pillow and nestling his head into it carefully. "How are you?"

"I asked first."

"Well I asked second."

"You're incorrigible." Morrison reached out and managed to worm an arm under Jeff and pull him closer, draping his arm around his waist to keep him close, and Jeff draped an arm loosely over his waist as well. "I'll be fine if you're okay."

"I'm okay if you're okay."

Morrison laughed softly. "Wasn't it your brother who said something about two tag team specialists in a relationship becoming desperately codependent?"

"He says a lot of things. And neither of us has been in a proper tag team in years. Hell, I almost got retired last year."

"Glad you didn't."

"I had help with that," Jeff answered, leaning up to kiss the underside of Morrison's chin lightly. "Punk never has stopped yelling about how you robbed him of his biggest moment."

"Well, I owed him a smack in the face. Helping you win the championship was just a bonus that took a few months to pay off."

"Glad it did." Jeff shuddered a little and pulled closer to Morrison. "I'm ready to go home. It's so damn cold here."

"I can turn the heat up over there..."

"Mmm." Jeff just hugged him closer. "Starting to think of taking you up on that offer you made last month."

Morrison looked down at him. "Seriously? I mean, coming to California, you'd be pretty far away from your entire family."

"Yeah...but after all this...I just...you know."

Morrison leaned his head back a moment, then hugged Jeff a little closer. "You won't have to hide from Matt. He isn't going to be mad at you. I think a situation like this somewhat transcends...everything else."

"We've had a lot of tension over things like...stuff...and Angie and the kids, I think...they keep him mellowed out. He and I used to fight more often than we do now, even when he was with Lita or Ashley or any of the other girls he's dated. She's kept him really on the straight and narrow since they've been together...Angie affects him the way I've never seen anyone else affect him, and I'm gonna take her away..."

"Maybe not..."

Jeff looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well...think about it, Jeff. Rey's been through something that no one else in the world, save the others in the program, could ever understand. He's obviously gonna have issues. He's treading the line of crazy already. And once he's free and out in the world, he'll probably go into another hospital at least for a little while for observations, and that could set him off worse...and we don't have any idea what kind of long-term effects there'll be." Morrison sighed. "He's not going to be the same man Angie and the kids remember. He's just not. And if he thinks it's 2007, and the last time he ever _really _saw his family was in 2005, they won't be what he remembers, either. They've been through losing him and it changed them...and when they go through suddenly having him back, who's ever experienced that? As romantic as the idea is, I think it's almost impossible that he and Angie will be able to pick up where they left off and maintain the relationship they had before."

"That doesn't mean she won't leave Matt..."

Morrison let out a slow breath, just hugging Jeff, laying in silence a while. Finally he spoke again. "I think it's gonna be okay. I don't know how exactly, but I think things are gonna work out for everyone. It'll hurt for a long time, maybe, but it'll get better." He leaned down to kiss the top of Jeff's head. "And if you really want to come stay with me in California for a while, I won't stop you. But let's not make it permanent right away, okay?"

Jeff nodded, cuddling closer, resting his head on Morrison's shoulder, and Morrison laid his head back, keeping his arm around Jeff and closing his eyes. Jeff's breathing evened out quickly, the way it did when he fell asleep. Morrison shifted a bit to get more comfy, but didn't move otherwise, not really wanting to move away from where he was now. He had the thought that he was going to start dozing himself, but didn't resist it. Best way for them both to prove how safe they were...just going for a quick nap without any need to stare over their shoulders.


	17. Chapter 17

Beth made a slightly displeased sound as she cranked at the gears of the van. "Fucking stick shifts, they should be illegal," she grumbled.

"I told you you didn't have to drive," Cena said from the front passenger seat. "There's almost a dozen of us who can all drive."

"Shut up. I said I would drive and I'm gonna drive." She leaned forward, glaring through the windshield. "It's just a couple more minutes away anyway, right?"

Cena glanced down, consulting the map in his hands, looking around and checking the name on a street sign they passed, tracing the street on the map again. "Yeah, looks good. Another mile up this road and then a left, and it should be right around in there."

Keith leaned up from the seat right behind them, looking over Cena's shoulder at the map. "Aren't we a little bit earlier than we said?"

"So we'll be the first ones there. No big deal. D'Amore knows we're coming," Jeff said from the very back of the van, where he, Morrison, and Batista had managed to squish themselves in beside their few remaining bags. "He's probably already pacing back and forth wondering what fresh hell we're bringing in on him."

"Boy, is he gonna be surprised," Chavo muttered. He, Eddie, Keith, and Josh were in the middle seat, with Eddie holding Rey in his lap so that Rey could keep his leg stretched across Chavo and Josh's laps to keep it from hurting too bad. Keith had checked on the surgery wound earlier, and re-cleaned it and bandaged it again. It wasn't infected, wasn't gaping or anything, was about as clean as it could be under the circumstances, which was all good news.

However, it had taken some effort for Eddie to wake Rey up to allow them to work on him, and though Eddie had offered him breakfast and Rey hadn't eaten since the day before, he'd barely eaten half of a breakfast bar and wouldn't take anything else. He was silent, morose, and withdrawn, would barely even make eye contact when spoken to, just staring blankly down at the ground or sitting quietly with his eyes closed-not asleep, just sitting. Keith had told them he was probably just exhausted and in pain, but the others weren't convinced, and Eddie suspected that Keith wasn't either, just trying to keep them from worrying. It hadn't been a successful attempt, but they did appreciate the effort, somewhat. But he was still worried that even though Rey had seemed to be able to keep up with them so far, that he was starting to slide somewhere they might not be able to reach him. Then again, after everything that had happened to them just in the last two days, Eddie knew he was mentally worn, and Rey had far, far more to work through than they did.

The respite had done the rest of them well, though. Josh had returned with jeans and plain black shirts and coats for all of them (which to Eddie's eyes, made them seem as though they were in some sort of bizarre uniform, but he kept that thought to himself), Keith had brought back this van, and Dave had ordered food from a small burger place just down the road that Keith had fetched to keep them from being seen. Beth, Chavo, Josh, and Keith had taken turns all night keeping watch, but nothing and no one suspicious had come through, and they were able to leave completely unmolested this morning, picking up a map from a gas station and starting towards Windsor, and Scott D'Amore's school.

"Start gathering up our things, guys," Chavo said to the three in the backseat. "Once we get there, Jeff, you go on ahead and make sure Scott's there, then we'll all hurry in as best we can to keep from getting noticed, if we can."

"What if there's already media people standing around?" Keith asked.

"For a wrestling press conference? No, they won't come until we call them with something very specific, and something really big."

"Right..."

"Here we are," Beth called back, pulling the van into a driveway and down towards a large concrete building. There was a single red Jeep in the parking lot, and there were no lights on, but Beth pulled as close to the door as she could anyway, grinding the van into park and swearing violently under her breath. "I will be glad to see the back end of these fucking vans."

Jeff managed to crawl over the seat and to the side door, starting to push it open. "Wow, this new place looks a lot better than that old garage he used to have," Jeff said, pulling the door. Even as he did so, a door on the building swung open, and Scott D'Amore stepped out, wearing black windpants and a red hockey jersey, adjusting his glasses and looking over at them, obviously quite frazzled.

"Hardy, get your shit and get in here now!" he barked out, before disappearing behind the door again.

"Yeah, he's here," Jeff said, hopping out of the van.

Eddie carefully lifted Rey into his arms, starting out of the van, sighing softly. "C'mon, _wowito_. It's almost over, buddy. We're in the home stretch."

Rey just leaned against him, closing his eyes, not saying anything, but he did reach one arm up to drape around Eddie's shoulders, hanging on as he was carried towards the building. Eddie sighed softly and kissed the top of his head gently, following after the others as they gathered things and started into the building. Eddie wasn't quite sure how they were going to go about explaining the situation to D'Amore without sounding completely insane...but he had the most important part of the whole thing in his arms right now. That would be explanation enough.

( )

Chavo and Josh made their way down a hallway of the building, glancing around, until Josh finally pushed open a door to what looked like a small lounge of sorts, with a couple of couches and a TV. "Looks like just the place to sprawl out and catch a few," Josh said.

"Probably won't get a chance to get too comfortable," Chavo said, even as he went to one of the couches and flopped onto it, stretching out.

"Yeah, but once the rest of the TNA guys get here and the media gets called, God knows when the next time we'll get to just sit and relax will be. We're gonna get called in for questioning and have to do Senate testimony and go on Oprah about how we feel and David Letterman will be doing brainwashing jokes for the rest of the year. I'm taking it while I have it." Josh headed for another couch and settled on it, sighing deeply.

Chavo shrugged a little, staring up at the ceiling. D'Amore had been somewhat agitated and irritated with them, lighting into Jeff for "dragging me into whatever mess this is," the instant he had come through the door. But as soon as Eddie had followed behind him, carrying Rey, Scott's face had gone completely white, and he, Eddie, Rey, Keith, and Batista had vanished into his office. D'Amore had taken just long enough to tell the others to make themselves at home, so they had, everyone going searching for whatever they could get their hands on in order to relax a little bit. Chavo and Josh had wandered off together, not in any particular search, but had decided on this lounge as soon as they were aware of it's existence.

"Where'd the others go?" Josh asked.

"Jeff and Johnny went exploring, I think Cena was going to see if he could find something for that burn in his ribs. I don't know where Beth got off to but I frankly don't care, because I feel bad for anyone who screws with her right now."

Josh snorted, then shook his head a little, sighing softly. "I can't believe we actually made it through," he said, rubbing his face. "After all the bullshit, we made it. It just doesn't even seem real."

"None of this seems real. I keep feeling like I'm going to wake up and roll over and reach over to the next bed, and poke Eddie and say 'Dude, you won't believe the crazy ass dream I just had,' because, I mean...honestly. All we need is some dinosaurs at this point."

Josh nodded. "It's weird, though. Doesn't seem like it should be so easy to slip away from a bunch of people with that much power and ability."

"Well, we got lucky. Keith was our turning point. Without him coming to warn us, we'd have been sitting ducks at the hotel."

"But what about that craziness with Kane and those other guys, that Alexander bastard? They had us and surely there was backup coming, all they would have had to do was hold us there, but they ran away."

"But they were outnumbered, and deep down, those crazy prisoners, those kinds of people, are cowards or narcissists or at the very least just don't want to risk their own hides. They don't want any part of a fair fight so they sure as shit don't want to tangle when they're at a disadvantage. Kane's a complete psycho, but he's not a stupid psycho."

"It just doesn't seem right, somehow."

"It's just because we've spent the last two days looking over our shoulders every second of every minute, being attacked and hurt and whatever else. Now we're safe but you haven't come out of the adrenaline rush. It might take a little while before everything's okay in your head. Don't worry, you get used to the fear thing after a decade or so in the business."

"I guess so. I just...it just all seems too easy."

"I'd hate to see what you think of as not easy, then," Chavo chuckled. "Because this has been really fucking difficult to me. Then again, you've been surprising me from the word go. I can't believe you're satisfied to be an announcer when you obviously know how to kick a few asses just fine."

"Yeah, whatever." Josh grunted, sitting up. "I'm going to go find something to drink. You want anything?"

"If you can find just a bottled water or something like that. I just want to lie here."

Josh nodded a little. "All right, I'll see what I can track down." He made his way to his feet and went to the door, letting it slip mostly shut behind him.

Chavo closed his eyes, yawning widely, resting a hand over his mouth, then rubbing his face, groaning slightly at how good the simple motion felt. He almost felt lazy, as though he could just fall asleep right there on the old sofa any second. He wanted to, actually, but he also knew that the instant he started to doze off, he'd have to wake right back up again, which would be even more annoying than just sitting here wishing for sleep. So he forced his eyes back open, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what sort of attention this would receive, how the world, how the _government_ was going to respond to it. What was going to happen to them?

He hadn't let this on to the others, but he was terrified. Bad things happened to those who fucked with Uncle Sam, and even to innocent people like Rey who'd never done anything weren't safe. He was entertaining a notion of gathering his family and hauling ass to Mexico as fast as he could once he got home, though he wondered whether even that would do any good. It was very, very hard to keep from being pessimistic about everything.

He wasn't going to take this back, though. It had to be done and he was one of the ones who had to do it. That was all there was to it.

( )

Cena stripped out of his clothes as fast as he was able with his hurting body and stepped into the locker room's bathroom, heading for the nearest showerhead and standing to one side, turning the water to get it as hot as he figured he could stand. He and Beth had ended up falling asleep where they lay last night, in the middle of their conversation, and so far as he knew, he hadn't moved until she had waved a McMuffin under his nose this morning. He hadn't said so, but if anything, he was even more sore all over today than yesterday, and every time he moved, it was like setting his muscles on fire. Part of him protested that taking a shower at a time like this seemed very inappropriate. The rest of him had long ago given up on appropriateness and was just worried about doing whatever was necessary to maximize his own comfort, and he hoped that, given the lack of decent painkillers, heating pads or even a nice bath available, that maybe a scalding shower would suffice.

The water finally got hot to a level that he appreciated, and he stepped under, hissing a little bit at the heat. Steam poured up from the water, causing him to close his eyes, sighing softly, but grunting when the water hit the burn on his side, reaching down to put a hand over it, grumbling softly to himself. "Fuckin' scientist fucks...better hope I never catch up with them or we'll see who jabs who with what..."

"Well, since we'll never see that guy again outside of maybe a courthouse, you'll just have to settle with knowing Dave and I kicked the living hell out of him for you."

Cena blinked his eyes open at the voice and turned his head quickly, not able to see clearly because of the steam and water in his eyes, but very aware of the shape of a smaller, blonde, distinctly feminine shape standing in the doorway to the showers...completely nude. Cena slapped one hand over his eyes and turned away quickly, hesitating, turning the other way, feeling his face flush as he did a somewhat bizarre shuffle as he tried to figure out exactly what part of himself to shield. "Beth, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oh, relax," she responded in an annoyed, yet amused tone of voice, and he heard the padding of bare feet on tile floor as she came in, past him, and to the next shower, cranking on that water as well. "I already told you I've seen you naked."

"A picture on the computer is a very long step away from taking a shower together!" Cena responded, crouching to try and hide his own nakedness, still with a hand over his eyes. "And I don't want to get the crap kicked out of me for seeing you!"

"John, honestly, like I'd waltz in here in the buff if I cared if you saw me."

Cena hesitated, turning his head towards her but keeping his eyes closed. "You sure?"

"Hell, I just wanted a hot shower of my own and I didn't want to be by myself. Glamazons can get a little spooked once in a while, too."

"You're just very direct in what you do, aren't you?" he asked, slowly standing and opening one eye a crack, peeking at her.

Beth had her head tilted down, letting the water pour through her hair, hanging in half-soaked and half-still-dry wads around her shoulders. "I don't play a lot of games, if that's what you mean. I just do what I do."

"Yeah, that's what I mean." Cena mentally shook himself, taking care to keep his gaze fixed on the wall, gentlemanly instincts kicking in despite Beth's assurances. "At least Scott keeps the water cranked up nice and warm."

"He does do that. It's very fortunate." Beth blew out a breath. "So, how are you feeling?"

"I'm hurting, I'm tired, I want to go home. How about you?"

"Yeah. Especially the going home part. My head's actually feeling better, it's just everything else is worn out and tired."

"Not a huge surprise, considering everything that's happened to us," Cena said, a hand going to the burn again.

"It looked like those guys beat you up a little when we came to save you," Beth said, looking up at him.

"Well, it must not have been too bad. It doesn't feel any worse than getting thrown through a spotlight."

"I'd imagine not much does." Cena felt a hand on his arm, and glanced over at him, blinking water out of his eyes as Beth stepped a little closer, looking up at him, seeming strangely somber for her. "I was really worried about you, man. I mean, anyone bad enough to get the upper hand on you has to be dangerous, and they called us and we could hear you screaming in the background...I've never heard anything like that before."

"Well...you know, I'm fine. I've been in worse scrapes than that, and besides, I got you guys to back me up." He flashed a quick smile, taking her hand and squeezing it. "So far you're my big hero."

"I'm serious!" she said, pushing his hand away in a sort of slap. "John, you didn't hear you screaming, you didn't hear...you were trying to tell us to leave you behind and we...for God's sakes, John, look at this!" She stepped closer, putting a hand to his ribs. "They fucking burned you-!" She stopped a moment, blinking, glanced down, then stepped back quickly, wincing. "Right, I know you're a guy and can't help it so I'm not holding that against you, but holy crap."

Cena blushed immediately, turning and starting out of the shower, grabbing at a handful of paper towels from the dispenser near the sink and starting to do his best to dry himself off. "Sorry, sorry, just...what the hell do you expect, I mean, geez..."

Beth stepped out behind him, picking up the jacket she'd worn in and pulling it on as a sort of makeshift robe. "I told you I'm not holding it against you. I know you can't help it. But good lord, how do you wrestle with that thing in there? No wonder you wear shorts past your knees."

"Good God, Beth, do you ever not offer such lovely commentary?"

"Sometimes not, I-,"

In his haste, Cena swiped hard across his ribs, and involuntarily yelped in pain, grabbing at the wound, dropping the towels. "Damnit, I will be so ready when this thing stops hurting!"

Beth sighed a little, and all but pushed Cena to sit down on a bench. "Let me look at it." She scooted around to his side, swatting his hands away from the wound and starting to look it over. "It looks a lot better than it did, at least, but it might be getting infected. You'll probably need to see a doctor once we've got people coming."

"What else is new?" Cena asked, then grunted as Beth probed at the wound. "Um, hi, _ow_. What are you doing?"

"It looks like you've got a knot here, like a lump, you know. That's weird, there shouldn't be a knot in a burn."

"Well stop _poking_ at it!"

"It's weird-looking, John, it might be something bad, I just want to..." Beth stopped mid-sentence, frowning, and crouched down a little, looking closer. "It looks like there's a little cut here."

"A cut?" Cena looked down at where she was pointing, lightly touching the spot himself. "What the hell did they do to me that has a cut?"

"Well, whatever this is, it looks like they tried to cauterize it or something with the burns, it's sealed shut but it's definitely a cut..." She frowned, touching it again, despite a curse and a swipe from Cena. "That bump is right underneath it."

"Well maybe they stuck something in there, then," Cena muttered absently, brushing her hands away from touching the wound. "Just stop-," Cena froze mid-sentence, glancing down at the wound, seeing Beth looking up at him with huge eyes, and he probed at the wound just as she had, but more urgently, growling in pain but finding the lump Beth had mentioned, pinching it between his fingers, testing the feel of it, discovering it to be a round shape, hard, and somewhat loose, as though he could roll it around underneath, it wasn't attached to anything...

"Son of a bitch!" he shouted, leaping to his feet. "Those motherfuckers put a tracker in me! I'm going to fucking kill those sons of bitches if I ever see them again! I don't believe this!"

"John, John!" Beth grunted, grabbing at his hands, trying to silence his fit. "John, if they have a tracker in you, they know where we are!"


	18. Chapter 18

Morrison closed the door behind him as he and Jeff stepped into the room, letting out a long breath. They'd found a small locker room with a couch and a large glass window to the outside, showing a nice panorama of the city, and decided to settle in to rest a while until they knew what was coming next.

"I suppose we need to start figuring out how to break the news to Matt and Angie," Jeff said, going over and sitting on the couch, leaning back, arms draped over the back of the couch.

"It's a tricky situation...it's not something to be done over the phone but if we get news broken, he'll hear about it anyway." Morrison walked over and plopped down next to him, leaning back as well, staring at the ceiling. "You'll just have to...I don't know, talk him through it first."

"If by tricky you mean shitty. Not sure if he'll even believe me, I mean..."

"He'll believe you. You're his baby brother. Even if he doesn't, the news will break and then he'll have to. We're just...trying to soften the blow."

"Yeah," Jeff said, leaning into Morrison, shaking his head. "I guess I should go ahead and call...since I'm sure the guys are arranging for news folks to get here soon..."

"Do whatever you think you should do," Morrison said, draping an arm around his shoulders.

Before Jeff could respond, the door to the room came open, and Josh peeked his head in. "Oh, hey, guys. Don't suppose you know where I can find a couple of bottles of water in here, do you?"

"Not that I know of...you want some help looking?" Morrison asked.

"If you don't mind. There's a lot of places to hunt."

"You okay, babe?" Morrison asked, looking back at Jeff, who had fished the cell phone out of his pocket and was looking at it silently.

"Yeah...I'm gonna go ahead and get started on this," Jeff said softly. "It's gonna be a long story."

Morrison nodded, getting up, patting Jeff's leg as he went, then headed for the door, stepping out with Josh and letting the door swing shut behind him, starting down the hall with the announcer. "Bottled water?"

"I don't care what really. Just something cold and wet. Running for your life is thirsty work."

"It is that," Morrison said mildly.

"So...how are the two of you holding up?" Josh asked, opening another door and peering into it.

"I don't even want to get into it," Morrison said, opening a door on his side of the hall, staring at a bathroom, then continuing on his way.

Josh nodded, and they searched in silence a moment before Josh opened a door to a small kitchen, with a couple of mini-fridges, a stove, a microwave, and a toaster oven scattered on worn furniture and cabinetry. "Ah, bingo," he said, starting inside, with Morrison following him. The first fridge contained nothing but a few rotten pieces of unidentifiable fruit, but the second had water, milk, sodas, and a few bottles of beer, and after a moment of consideration, Josh claimed the beer. "I think Chavo and I are going to get stinking drunk. Or as close as we can get off a six-pack."

"Once we're home, I say the group of us rent a bar for an evening and we'll all get as wasted as we can possibly get." Morrison took a bottle of water and a couple of cans of Pepsi out, wincing at the coldness of the cans. "We need to all just be a stable at this point. We're the most unstoppable group WWE can come up with, apparently."

Josh sighed, shaking his head. "You know, when this all started, I wanted nothing more than to play croquet with Batista's balls for daring to be involved in this." He worked open a bottle of the beer and gulped most of it down, then lowered it. "I guess I've had the rage scared out of me."

"It's not his fault, anyway. He's just a pawn like anyone else who could've been sucked into this."

"He's the easiest person to lash out at, though. The doctors and criminals aren't here for me to take it out on."

"Be thankful for that," Morrison said, walking to the door and holding it open for Josh. "I doubt they'll be gentle with us the way they've been screwing around so far...and even at that, we've barely gotten away by the skin of our teeth. We won't have a prayer if they get us again."

Josh shrugged a little, and Morrison turned to head back down the hall, Josh wandering the opposite way behind him, down another hall. Morrison looked down at the drinks in his hands, then went back towards his own room. He wondered whether Jeff had already gotten Matt on the phone, and if so, how the older brother was taking things thus far.

( )

Chavo heard the door come open, but didn't feel much like looking up. He had flopped onto his front with his face in the sofa, and it was a very comfortable position to be in, and he was loathe to leave it unless he had to. Instead he just held out a hand, anticipating the drink he'd requested from Josh. "I owe you, man, thanks," Chavo said, voice muffled in the cushion.

Footsteps approached his seat quickly, but something sounded a little off about them, as though they were too heavy for Josh. Chavo frowned and started to raise his head, but yelped when someone grabbed the back of his shirt, and something pressed against the back of his head, pushing his face into the cushion. He grunted and grabbed at whatever was pushing him, kicking his feet and trying to wriggle away. "What the hell-?" he grunted.

"Shut up," a familiar deep voice chuckled from over him, and he grunted when he was flung off the sofa and to the floor, rolling onto his back quickly and seeing Kane standing over him, wearing that bizarre outfit of a dress shirt and slacks again, drawing even more attention to his dead eye and borderline demonic, grinning face.

"Oh what the FUCK!" Chavo snarled, scrambling backwards and to his feet, ready to fight, but coming to an abrupt stop when he saw Kane wasn't alone, as there was a blonde man behind him, in khakis and white button-up shirt, carrying a pistol and aiming it towards him. "How the hell did you find us?"

"That's not your problem, Chavo," Kane said, smirking. He glanced back at the man behind him, a fellow who looked more scientific than thuggish. "Keep him isolated, Darrin, I'm going to keep looking for our subject."

"You bastard, you're never gonna get Rey back, you're gonna pay for this," Chavo growled, clenching his fists at his sides.

Kane simply turned and made his way back to the door, chuckling as he did. "You don't even know, Chavo...you have no idea what's coming." He opened the door, glancing both ways, then slid out, letting the door shut behind him.

"Just have a seat on the sofa there," the stranger, Darrin, said, gesturing with the pistol, and Chavo, though seething, got up and moved over, sitting down, glaring at him.

"You're not going to get away with this. Something like this can't stay hidden forever."

"We've kept it hidden long enough," Darrin said. "At any rate, the lot of you are already performing within our parameters. Your data is fascinating."

"What do you mean, 'our data'?"

Darrin shrugged somewhat. "Doctor Bettler has something planned for the lot of you. I don't know what, I just know we're recording things." He shifted, making his way around to the back of the couch. "I know you have a friend on his way in, so here's what you're going to do. You'll carry on as per normal until he's sitting here as well and then we are all going to wait quietly until the others have come to collect you. Don't try to warn him, I have orders to kill you both if necessary." With that, he crouched down out of sight of the door, going completely silent.

Chavo sat quietly, having to fight to keep from lunging backwards and trying to wrangle the bastard. No doubt he'd get himself shot as soon as he tried, which would leave Josh to either get shot or held hostage alone, and though Josh had been proving his competency so far, he couldn't fight a gunman on his own. They'd have to work together to do this, if Chavo could just think of a plan.

The door slid open, and Josh came in, carrying an armful of beer bottles. "Hey, I figured these would be a lot better for the gullet than just water. I don't know about you, but I could stand a little buzz going."

"Yeah, it sounds good," Chavo said, mind racing, almost thinking he could _feel _the stranger behind him, gun probably carefully aimed. He tried frantically to think of something, and abruptly, the most bizarre thought burst into his head, and it seemed completely crazy even as he decided to go with it. "I think you're right about curling up at home and watching Spongebob."

"Yeah, I'm telling you, man. Spongebob is like the perfect way to just let your mind go blank."

Chavo nodded, raising one hand and gesturing vaguely towards the back of the couch with it. "Yeah, you know what my favorite episode is? The one with Spongebob and that squirrel chick when they were playing karate too much."

"Oh yeah, that one is good. You know, I've heard online that people say karate on Spongebob is supposed to be like, their way of having sex or something. Really kinda fucks up the whole show when you read that crap." Josh started towards the couch, holding out one of the beers.

Chavo's gestures became faintly more frantic, as he jerked a thumb repeatedly towards the back of the couch. "Well, my favorite part of that episode was when Spongebob came home and all that."

Josh stopped, blinking at him a moment, opening his mouth to ask something, but hesitated, continuing the conversation, though with an obvious questioning tone in his voice. "Well yeah, that was a pretty funny part, so-,"

Chavo made a face, trying to convey everything with just his expression, and jerked his thumb backwards once more. "Yeah, it was absolutely the funniest part, I really, really liked it a lot with how he was running around," he said, glancing his eyes backwards as well as he could without obviously moving his head.

Josh stared a moment longer, and to Chavo's relief, awareness dawned on his face, and Josh knelt, putting down all but two of the bottles. "Well, yeah, but for me, the best part was when they were in the park making lunch," he said, keeping his tone conversational, even as he straightened, holding a bottle in either hand by the necks, starting to creep around slightly to get to a side of Chavo. "I mean, especially after you've read the sick shit people put online about the sex and whatnot and-,"

Without even the slightest bit of warning, Josh lunged forward at the couch, landing with his gut hard across the back, sending the air out of him, but even at that, he swung both bottles down as hard as he could at Darrin, the stranger, who let out a shrill grunt of surprise when both bottles collided with his head, and Chavo was up and moving as well, turning and lunging over the back, grabbing him and tackling him to the ground. The gun flew out of Darrin's hand at the impact, and Chavo was fast to grab the guys arms, flipping him onto his stomach, straddling his waist, then grabbing his head and smashing it down at the floor as hard as he could. There was a cracking sound, but nothing more, and Darrin's body went limp under him, either dead or unconscious, and Chavo found himself not particularly caring which as he got to his feet, panting, trying to figure out how exactly he'd gotten so short of breath.

"Can't...believe...you actually...did that..." Josh wheezed from where he was still hanging over the back of the couch, holding his stomach in pain. "Or even that you..._thought_ to do it..."

"Yeah, well, considering the yellow bastard just saved our lives, I take back every bad thing I ever said about Spongebob." Chavo pulled Josh to his feet. "You all right?"

"Been better, but I'll live...holy shit, that's one of the bad guys, isn't it?"

Chavo nodded, wincing. "Kane is out there somewhere, too, looking. I have to imagine there's more. They found us somehow."

"We better go warn the others...fast..."

Chavo nodded again. "Come on, we better hurry, we have to get our asses moving again if we can get away from here..." He and Josh ran to the door and hurried out, moving down the hallway as fast and alertly as they could, keeping their eyes and ears peeled to avoid getting dropped on again.

( )

As he approached, Morrison noticed the door was slightly ajar from where he'd left it, but he figured Jeff, being inquisitive as always, had gotten up and peeked out after him to see where he'd headed off to. He made his way over and turned his back to work the door open, not wanting to knock the sodas around. "Jeff, I found you something to drink-," he started to say, as the door swung shut and he started to turn around-

The couch Jeff had been sitting on was knocked over, the phone was smashed against the wall just next to him, and Alexander was in the corner, both hands wrapped around Jeff's throat, holding the smaller man up against the wall, slamming him into the concrete over and over, Jeff's arms and legs hanging limp, skin waxy and ashen. Morrison flinched a moment, dropping everything in his hands, completely struck dumb for the briefest of moments, unable to move or react. Suddenly it hammered into him what was happening, what he was seeing, and he let out a scream, rushing forward. "Let him _go_!"

Alexander peeped back at him, and with an almost casual arrogance, threw his foot back to get Morrison in the stomach, knocking him backwards hard against the floor. "You don't learn real fast, do you, pretty boy?" He turned his attention back to Jeff, who had gone a vaguely grayish shade. "I think he's just about learned his lesson for daring to throw shit at my head and thinking he was gonna kick my ass when I just came in to say hi."

"Let him go, you're killing him!" Morrison yelled, scrambling back to his feet and running at them again.

Alexander sidestepped him, then swung Jeff around, colliding him with Morrison and knocking him against the floor again, then looked back at Jeff's face, smirking. "Killing? I think done killed, actually," he said, then turned, throwing Jeff hard against the wall and letting him collapse bonelessly to the ground. "I've been wailing on him for a bit now, guess I done forgot to keep track of time."

"Wha...what, Jeff...?" Morrison grunted, sitting up, looking past Alexander to where Jeff had landed on his side, body slightly contorted from the bizarre angle he'd landed at, completely unmoving.

"Just as well. He was beginning to be a fucking pest." Alexander smirked, moving towards Morrison. "Dead or not, blue-hair'll keep for me. I haven't gotten to play with you yet."

Morrison rolled back to his feet, glancing back at Jeff once, breath hitching a single time...then his attention turned as he shifted to glare at Alexander. "You sick, sick son of a-,"

"I need another color..." Alexander broke in, yanking two braids-one blue, one blonde-out from his pocket, holding them up just under his nose, tilting his head back as though to get a better whiff. "I like your hair but it's a bit too short, I'll have to keep you handy until it's grown out-,"

Alexander obviously had more to say, but his voice cut off abruptly, and he let out a strangled gasp when Morrison, without so much as a word, stepped in and buried his fist into the giant's exposed throat, feeling an incredibly satisfying crunch of destruction under his knuckles as he did so.

"You sick fuck!" Morrison heard himself screaming, in an odd sense disconnected, like he was hearing himself distorted, even as the giant stumbled around, clutching at his destroyed throat, and Morrison followed him, throwing first a kick to the crotch, then another to the chin that snapped Alexander's head back, knocking him against the floor. "You can't hide behind anyone else now, you sick fuck, you can't hide anymore, can you?" Alexander tried to scoot away, but Morrison fell atop him, straddling his waist and grabbing at his throat in both hands, then raising one, smashing his fist into the man's face, using the punches as punctuation with everything that came from his mouth. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Punch. "This is what you wanted!" Punch. "You want me, you can fucking have me-," Punch. "-you disgusting bitch waste of shit!" Punch. "You fucking psycho man cunt-," Punch, punch, "-you fucking shithole!"

Morrison was dimly aware on some level that Alexander was still fighting back, pushing and punching at him as well. He was aware that all the flailing they were both doing meant that a few of his punches weren't connecting with anything but the bone-shattering concrete floor under them, even though he couldn't feel any pain from any of it. He was aware that he was screaming threats and words in combinations that didn't really make any sense. He was also aware that all of this meant he had crossed over into a Bad Place at the moment, with the capital letters and everything, but even knowing all that on a logical level wasn't doing anything to make him stop. Because the simple fact of the matter was, losing control on this big fuck felt very, very good.

"I'll kill you!" he heard himself again. "I'll kill you, I swear to God, I'll kill you, I'll kill you I'll kill you _I'll kill you_!"

Still on that separate level, he became aware of the gradual cessation of movement from Alexander, the slow change of sound from fist hitting face to something more akin to a watermelon hitting the floor, but it still hadn't stopped feeling right to be brutalizing the bastard that had become the bane of his existence within two mere days, the freak who'd tormented them, who'd tormented Rey, who had probably tormented others just like them, the bastard who'd scared Jeff so much he'd-

_Jeff._

Morrison abruptly stopped mid-punch, a red haze he hadn't even been aware of at the edges of his vision fading out, leaving him looking down at a formerly human face that now looked like so much ground beef and the awareness of blood and scorching pain in his hands. That didn't matter either though. Morrison glanced over at where Jeff was still laying on the floor, in the same position, completely still.

"Jeff...Jeff!" Morrison scrambled off the giant towards him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him onto his back, cupping his face. "Jeff!"

Jeff's eyes were closed and his mouth was open slightly, apparently completely unconscious. But he was that unearthly pale color and his lips were tinged slightly, a vaguely purplish tone to them. Morrison put a hand over Jeff's mouth, couldn't feel anything...immediately pulled Jeff up, putting an ear to his chest, thought he could feel a beat, but he wasn't sure, he couldn't be certain he really felt it or he was imagining it, but he couldn't hear or feel anything like breath, and the angry red hand prints around Jeff's throat were stark evidence to what he was afraid of.

"Oh God, oh no, no no no no no, oh God please no," Morrison whimpered, laying Jeff back against the floor, straightening him out, feeling once again like his body was moving of it's own volition, but this time the overpowering emotion, instead of rage, was all-consuming terror. "Please God, please God, please God," he was saying, even as his hands were moving, one under Jeff's neck, raising it enough to tilt his head slightly, the other automatically opening his mouth more, and Morrison leaned down quickly, pinching Jeff's nose and pressing his mouth over Jeff's, blowing in a breath as steadily as he could, watching Jeff's chest rise from the corner of his eye, pulling back just long enough to feel the exhalation as the air came back out, repeating it again, then putting his ear back to Jeff's chest. This time though, there was no question...he couldn't hear any heartbeat.

"Oh no, no no no no no no no no, no, Jeff, no, _please_..." He positioned his hands over Jeff's chest, locking his elbows, wincing at what he would have to do next, but went through it anyway, thrusting his hands down into Jeff's chest hard. He heard and felt a crack at the push, but didn't stop, keeping going with the chest compressions...Jeff would be better off with shattered cartiledge and broken ribs than a stopped heart...frantically murmuring a count to himself as he did. He leaned down again, two more breaths, then more compressions, back again, had to keep going, didn't know if it was working, he couldn't tell..."Please Jeff, please Jeff, please Jeff, please Jeff..."


	19. Chapter 19

D'Amore was sitting behind his desk, staring at the bunch sitting around his office, working on what had to be his sixth cup of coffee since they'd come in. Another pot was brewing on the machine behind him, but even at that, he had another packet of mix set next to it, obviously prepared for another pot even after that one.

"This is some damn Mel Gibson conspiracy shit," he mumbled, raising a slightly shaky mug to take another sip, turning his attention to the couch on the opposite wall, where Eddie and Dave were sitting with Rey, as Keith was leaned back in a wooden chair they'd brought in from the hallway.

"We wouldn't have come here and done things like this if it weren't a huge, huge thing," Dave said. "They've been on us every step of the way and we couldn't go to anyone we were directly connected to. We knew you were here and we hoped you'd be able to help us."

D'Amore sighed, putting his mug down and pinching the bridge of his nose. "So why do I have half a dozen TNA guys headed this way?"

"We wanted to throw them off the scent. If a story breaks about a bunch of wrestlers suddenly showing up here, we figured it'd only get picked up as a TNA story and not involve any of us WWE folks."

"Not to mention having some extra backup just in case," Eddie added. "Once we get the media coming, we don't know whether or not they'll still come after us."

"They want Rey back something fierce, and at the very least they want to erase all of our brains of everything that's happened so we can't blab." Keith cleared his throat faintly. "At the very least."

"I'm gonna guess I don't even want to hear about the worst." D'Amore muttered.

"It's what you would expect."

"Oh good," D'Amore said, a sarcastic cheer in his voice. "You know, I was just thinking this morning my life isn't complete without a few incredibly serious death threats."

"We're really sorry to have involved you in this," Eddie said, hugging Rey a little closer. "We were desperate, couldn't find anyone to help us."

D'Amore sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "It's fine, it's fine. If I'm ever in a situation like this, I like to think I could come to WWE folks for protection...not that I will ever be involved in a situation like this because something this insane doesn't happen twice in a lifetime, but hey, what are you gonna do?" He leaned back, spreading his arms as though waiting for a big hug. "Mi casa and su casa and whatever else."

"There aren't any students coming today, are there?" Rey suddenly asked, raising his head slightly, voice quiet but still startling, considering he hadn't even appeared to be acknowledging them during the entire conversation.

"No, no...I canceled all my classes for the rest of the week as soon as Jeff called me. Fortunately, I've learned to anticipate huge trouble from you WWE guys."

Rey nodded slightly, and sagged back against Eddie, as though rising from the mental distance he'd been at had been an exhausting effort, closing his eyes and going back into the apparently self-imposed exile. Eddie smiled faintly and hugged him tightly, whispering something in Spanish.

"What was that?" Batista asked, glancing over at them.

"He said 'even at your lowest, you put others first'," Keith said, turning in his chair to look at them, chewing his lip. "Even the scientists commented on it back at the hospital...Rey consistently showed more concern over the others around him in the program than himself, fretted more over his family and friends than he ever did over himself. That was a big part of why they decided to bring you in, Dave. They'd calculated the two of you developing a friendship into his programming and figured that the best way to try and break through his false memories was to use people close to him...they couldn't use anyone who was actually a close friend of his for obvious reasons but they figured they could use someone who'd never had any serious interaction with him before without that person turning traitor on the program."

"They figured wrong," Batista said bitterly. "Whether or not Rey and I were friends before this happened, we're friends now. Not to mention that I'm not some inhuman monster like they are who could just see an innocent person going through that sort of shit and just decide there's no reason to do anything...goddamnit if I could have snuck him out of there on my own..."

"You did everything you could, Dave," Keith said. "One person couldn't fight this all on their own. Hell, seven government agencies working together haven't been able to stop it yet. Bettler made sure she got the best of the best and she's maneuvered so much red tape into things that it's hard to even prove what's happened."

"Well we're gonna prove it," Eddie said firmly, looking up from Rey. "And we're going to get rid of this whole mess, we're gonna fix it, we're going to repair the lives of everyone who got pulled into this that we can and make sure the bad people pay."

Keith sighed, seeming that he was about to say something else, but looked at Rey and just shook his head, turning his attention back to D'Amore. "When are your friends going to get here?"

"Should be any time, I told them to get here as fast as they could."

"Who all are you expecting?" Batista asked.

"Sabin was the one who talked to me, asked what he should do. I told him to round up anyone he could, he...mentioned a few names. AJ, your old buddy Kurt, Jarrett, that psycho bitch ODB, Joe...a few others, I think, I don't know for sure who all exactly." D'Amore shrugged. "They were just finishing a house show tour so he was probably able to pick and choose who he wanted."

Eddie nodded. "Just those names are a pretty fierce. That should get us enough attention to draw on at least a couple of mainstream news people."

"I'll go ahead and start calling, then..." D'Amore muttered, picking up the phone on his desk and starting to dial. "Newspapers, TV, Internet, I'm guess-," He stopped, frowning, then tapped at the disconnect button on the phone a few times, putting it back to his ear, then grumbling. "Seven months I've had this building and the phone system is still a pile of crap. This is why God invented cell phones...so people don't have to waste their time with the stupid phone company!" He stood, digging in his pocket, taking out a small silver phone and flipping it open, starting to dial.

"Eddie!" a voice called from down the hall, and they looked over at the sound of a near stampede, but when the office door flew open, only Cena and Beth, both dripping wet and haphazardly dressed in soggy, clinging clothing, burst in.

"Well talk about not wasting time," D'Amore said, hesitating halfway through his dial. "What _exactly_ have you guys been _doing_ in my locker room?"

Both of them started talking, voices loud and frantic, until Beth suddenly elbowed Cena in the side, making him grunt but go silent. "Shut up, they can't listen to us both at once!"

"You are such a rude bitch!" he shot back.

"What the hell is going on?" Batista asked, standing.

"Okay, fast version, when they had Cena, we think they stuck a tracker in his side where they were zorching him so they're probably still following us!" Beth said quickly.

"What?" Eddie and Batista both let out at once, Batista lunging to his feet and Eddie clutching Rey closer to his side.

Cena pulled up his shirt, pointing to the burn wound. "It's in there, there's a bulge you can feel and it's definitely something, and it's under a cut."

Keith got up, coming over and looking closer at the wound, probing a moment, eyes widening. "I think they're right."

"_Shit!_" Batista snarled, smashing a fist into D'Amore's desk, making the man jump and drop his cell phone to the floor with a clatter. "They think of everything, they fucking think of everything, I swear to God!"

"Okay, okay, then we need to move fast," Eddie said. "We just gotta get ahead of them, stay one step ahead and then take out Cena's tracker too and-,"

The door slammed open again, and Chavo and Josh rushed in, looking out of breath and ruffled. "Guys, guys, guys, they're here!" Chavo blurted out.

"What? Who's here?" D'Amore asked. "The TNA guys?"

"No, the scientists, those dudes, they're here...Kane and some freak just jumped us back in the locker rooms and we beat up the weird guy but Kane's still in here wandering around somewhere and there have to be more-," Josh was gasping out.

"Wait, slow down before you swallow your damn tongue," D'Amore muttered. "Scientists? What kind of freakass scientists are these people?"

"Oh God..." Rey whispered softly, cringing back in his seat faintly, tucking his chin down against his chest and drawing up his arms and good leg as much as he could, curling up in as close to a ball as he could manage.

"You don't want to know, all right? You just don't..." Keith said, shaking his head, voice measured but eyes obviously widened in fear.

"Okay, okay," Batista said, holding up a hand to gain their attention. "Then we need to move _faster_. We need to find Jeff and Morrison and get the fuck out quick." He turned to Eddie, who was already moving to pick Rey up again. "You got him?"

"I've had him all along, I've got him now," Eddie answered gruffly, but his voice turned soft and soothing as he tried to coax Rey out of his defensive position. "Rey-Rey, come on, we're gonna get out of here, okay? We're not gonna let anyone get you."

"Already got me, Eddie..." he murmured, shaking his head, a barely perceptible rock to his motions where he was sitting. "Already got me, had me all along, hasn't he? He's been here all along, he's always been here..."

"Rey, calm down, _wowito_, I promise you're gonna be safe, we just have to move, okay? We need to get up and moving though, we gotta go-,"

"Another trick all along..." Rey whimpered, shaking his head hard, refusing to be budged. "I knew it, I knew it wasn't real, I knew it wasn't real, I knew it wasn't, Kane's sick, he's sick he's twisted, knew he wasn't going to let me go, knew he wasn't..."

"Rey..." Eddie knelt in front of him, grabbing Rey's face in his hands, trying to force him to make eye contact. "Rey-Rey, come on, don't do this, holmes, please don't do this. You're safe, Rey, listen to me. You're safe, Kane's not going to get you, I will not let him, okay? Rey? Rey-Rey?" Eddie shook him very lightly, trying to get his attention, and finally Rey seemed to meet his gaze...but Eddie winced when he looked into Rey's eyes, wet with tears and yet glassy, staring without seeing, apparently focused on a point somewhere several feet behind them, on nothing.

"Rey?" Batista asked, crouching next to him.

Eddie shook his head slowly, biting his lip. "I think something's wrong..." he said softly, a quaver in his own voice, even as he tried again, pulling Rey forward, shaking his shoulders a little, trying to get his attention. "Rey...Rey, Rey, _wowito_, please, Rey, come on..."

Keith stepped over a little briskly, moving Eddie and Batista aside and grabbing Rey's face, looking at his face, snapping his fingers in front of the smaller man's face a few times, then let him go, shaking his head. "Psychological retreat. Nothing we can do right now but get him away from here and worry about nursing him back to health later."

"Oh God...oh God, he's gone, isn't he?" Eddie shook his head, breath hitching. "He's completely gone, isn't he? He snapped, he's just snapped-,"

Keith turned and grabbed Eddie by the arm, pulling him up and shaking him harder than he had been shaking Rey. "Listen to me right now, okay? All of you." He glanced around at the others, voice taking a stern, commanding note. "Put it out of your mind and let's get moving. There's nothing more you can do to help than what you're doing now. Rey will be fine once we get him away from this environment. All right?" There was a brief pause, and he looked back at Eddie, shaking him once more. "All _right_?"

Eddie seemed to physically shake himself, then shoved Keith away, gritting his teeth, but moving over to Rey, reaching down and carefully scooping him up, holding him close. "All right, I got him," he said, voice measuredly calm. "Now let's get Jeff and Johnny and get-,"

From somewhere else in the building, there was a sudden scream, a sound of a curious mix between fear, rage, and desperation. "Give him back! Give him _back_! Let me go, give him back! Jeff! Jeff, no, stop it! _Give him back!_"

"That's Morrison!" Beth gasped, turning and bolting out the door, Cena and Chavo right on her heels, followed by, after a second's hesitation, Josh. Batista grabbed Eddie's shoulder as he moved to follow as well, shaking his head.

"You need to take Rey out of here, get him somewhere safe."

"What about the rest of you?"

"Don't worry about us, okay? Just get Rey to safety, he's the important thing. Without him, they can never completely cover up their experiments."

"But-,"

"And I'm afraid at this point, one more person won't make a difference..." Keith said. He glanced backwards, blinking at the sight of D'Amore, still sitting at his desk, but with the cell phone against his ear. He raised an eyebrow on making eye contact with Keith, but nodded slightly.

"I called the local news folks and reported a drug bust was about to happen here," he said softly. "Of course, they're ecstatic to come running and see that. Especially since I called all three area networks."

Keith nodded a little, motioning. "You'd better leave too. Get as far away from here as you can."

"The hell you say. I may not look like much but I can swing a stick just fine. You guys dragged me into this, you can't just shove me out-,"

"You can wait outside for the TNA guys then, and tell them what's happening," Batista broke in. "And Eddie, you just run like hell, get anywhere as far and as safe as you can get and no matter what, don't you dare even look back. Just protect Rey."

Eddie shook his head. "But...Dave, you guys will..."

"Stop wasting time and get moving. It might already be too late," Keith said.

Eddie stood silent a moment, biting his lip hard, then looked down at Rey, letting out a breath and closing his eyes, then nodding determinedly. "All right, all right. I'm going. Come on, Scott."

D'Amore shrugged and got up, the phone still to his ear as Eddie hurried out the door, running the opposite direction, towards the exits. Batista glanced at Keith, nodding once, then they followed the direction the others had gone as fast as they could manage.

( )

Beth barely slowed down when she got to the door she could hear Morrison's shouts coming from, turning enough to barrel a shoulder into the door and sling it open, charging in. "Morrison!" she gasped, coming to a halt with the others behind her at what she saw.

The room had at least a dozen people in it, about half of them the hulking brutes in gray uniforms they'd seen at the hospital and the other half what looked like conservative businessmen in khakis and suits, all of whom whipped about to stare as they burst in. Two of those men were carrying handguns, and all the gray-suited men were armed with what looked like batons. One of them had Morrison pinned on his front on the ground, hands wrenched behind his back and held there despite Morrison's howling and struggling to get loose.

"Let me save him! Let me _save him_!" he was shrieking, apparently fixated on what was happening on the other side of the room, where a couple of the businessmen were knelt over Jeff, who appeared to be completely unconscious, not even moving. "He's dying, please, he's _dying_, please let me save him!"

"What the hell's going on?" Cena yelled from behind her.

The two men with guns immediately aimed them towards their group, even as Morrison tried his best to turn his head towards them, sobbing. "They killed Jeff, they killed Jeff!"

"We aren't going to let him die," an unfamiliar female voice interrupted, and Beth and the others glanced over towards it. A vaguely overweight, middle-aged looking woman, dressed like the businessmen, with tanned skin, dark eyes and long black hair with streaks of white through it, was making her way towards Jeff, carrying a green case in one hand. She knelt beside him, opening the case and taking out a syringe and a glass bottle of clear liquid, starting to draw some of it out.

"What are you doing to him?" Cena demanded, starting to move towards her, ignoring the presence of the guards and guns around him.

"Tabula Rasa," the woman said idly, and Cena jerked in his step, seeming almost to spasm, then fell facefirst to the floor, where two of the men in gray leapt onto his back, pinning his arms down.

"John-!" Beth started, but yelped when she and Chavo were each grabbed from behind by two of the gray suits and thrown down on the ground as well, before they had any chance to fight.

The woman ignored the brief fight behind her, putting down the bottle and raising the needle, depressing the plunger just enough to let a small stream of liquid shoot out, then motioned to one of the businessmen, who stepped over and brusquely took hold of Jeff's shirt, yanking it up to expose his ribcage. The woman put a hand on his ribs, feeling carefully for a moment, then took the needle and pushed it in just to the side of the middle, pushing the plunger and swiftly pulling it out.

The reaction was nearly instant. One second Jeff was laying on the ground motionless, and the next he had let out a gargling scream and almost managed to sit up completely, but fell back against the floor, twitching and crying out. The businessman turned him onto his side, as Jeff gagged and choked a moment, eyes flittering open just a second when he abruptly retched and vomited, and only then did the businessman let him sag back against the floor, wheezing, grunting, still seizing, breathing obviously labored, but it was breath, which was better than it had been.

Even despite the situation, Morrison sobbed in relief, because even as bad as things were, they were better because at least Jeff was alive, and if Jeff was alive then there was a chance, a chance was better than no chance. He stopped his frantic struggling, trying to catch his breath, glancing around, trying to figure out exactly what the situation was now.

The woman stood, watching Jeff, frowning. "There must be some swelling in his breathing passages. We'll need to intubate him when we get back." She looked at Alexander's body, still laying against the far wall, with faint disdain. "We also need to reinstitute our behavioral modifications on our Class D personnel. Obviously they aren't quite powerful enough."

Cena's hypnotic paralysis broke abruptly, and he immediately struggled to get loose of the two holding him, grunting and snarling. "You fucking bitches! Let me up from here, I swear to God I'll-,"

"And apparently Walter didn't have enough time to make his memory plants more long-lasting," she added, glancing over. "We'll need to work on that as well."

"Who the fuck are you?" Cena growled, still trying to jerk his way loose.

The woman turned to him, started to turn away as though disregarding the question entirely, then stopped, shrugging almost to herself, and turned back, smiling faintly.

"My name is Doctor Gladys Bettler. It's nice to make your acquaintance at last."


	20. Chapter 20

Eddie held Rey tightly to his chest, back against the wall as tightly as he could manage, edging along behind D'Amore, who was carrying a plastic broom...the closest thing to a weapon he could readily get his hands on. As troubling as Rey's catatonic condition was, he was at least silent and not putting up any struggle, which was a major plus for them for the moment, as it was turning out not to be a matter of simply walking out of the school and breaking for it...it seemed around every corner and behind every door were more scientists and brutes.

D'Amore glanced around one corner carefully, then leaned back, looking at Eddie and holding up one finger. Eddie nodded, and D'Amore glanced back out, waiting a moment before motioning for Eddie to follow him, scurrying along the wall and past the doorway as fast as they could. They avoided detection once more, as D'Amore froze, then whipped open a door to what turned out to be a closet, yanking Eddie in behind him and pulling the door shut, even as the sounds of footsteps made their way by.

"How many of these guys are there?" D'Amore whispered, quiet but obviously agitated.

"A lot..." Eddie answered just as softly.

"This is some serious bullshit..." D'Amore muttered, but he let out a breath, putting his ear to the door, listening a moment, then cracking the door just enough to peer out, scooting back to look through the hinges as best he could as well, then opened the door, heading down the hall again. "Just a little further..."

"Where do you think you're goin'?" a voice barked behind them, and Eddie froze, glancing back towards the sound, seeing one of the khaki-clad scientists, brandishing what looked like a metal rod at them.

"Hey, c'mon, man, I'm just trying to get a couple of my students outta here," D'Amore said plainly, stepping around in front of Eddie and Rey, even though even Eddie stared at him for the sheer blatantness of the lie. "I don't know what's going on with you folks busting in here, but let me just take them outside and I'll-," His grip went tight on the broom and he smacked it into the side of the man's head, then continued to beat him furiously with it, only letting up on the assault when the man was sprawled on the ground, and finishing with a swift kick to the head. He immediately swirled around, grabbing hold of Eddie's arm and sprinting for the door, dragging Eddie behind him.

"Where are we going?" Eddie grunted, stumbling a bit as he tried to match D'Amore's frantic pace.

"Anywhere that's not here! Like I said, this whole situation is serious bullshit!" D'Amore kicked open the front door, rushing out into the parking lot-and grunted when the butt of a rifle smacked into his face, knocking him backwards into Eddie and Rey, sending all three of them to the ground.

"Oh God, no..." Eddie murmured, clutching Rey tighter as he stared up into the faces of three armed thugs, two men and a woman, gathered around them, glaring down at them.

"Sorry, boss's orders," one of the men said, a skinny fellow with thinning blonde hair, smirking as he aimed the gun at them. "Anyone tryin' ta'leave gets brought straight back to the doc. She figgered ya'll might try to pull somethin' sneaky like this."

"That's the subject right there," the woman, a chubby redhead, said, pointing at Rey. She gestured to the second man, a large fellow who seemed to almost resemble Mark Henry, if he'd shaved his head. "Ain't it, Brad?"

The man nodded, a deep scowl on his face. "That's him all right."

"What the fuck..." D'Amore muttered, starting to get up, but the woman punched him in the head, knocking him back against the ground.

"Just shut up and get up," she snarled. "We're going back inside now. You're gonna have to forget all about all this."

"Screw you, lady," he shot back as defiantly as he could manage, even though he was laid out on the pavement, holding his temples in pain.

Eddie clung to Rey tightly with one arm, keeping the disturbingly unresponsive smaller man close, scooting backwards and away from them as best he could with the other. "No...please...you can't, you...please let him go, please...you can't do this, you have to let him go..."

"That's not our call, buddy," Brad replied, advancing on them, as Eddie hit the wall of the building and curled up there, hugging Rey as tight as he could, practically wrapping into a ball around him. "Get up, we're going now."

Eddie shook his head, turning his back to them, putting himself between Rey and the thugs. A minor, meaningless resistance at this point, he knew. But it was all he could offer, he had promised that he would do anything he could to protect Rey, and he would. He felt hot tears stinging behind his closed eyelids, both frustrated and crushed at his failure to uphold the promise, that it came down to this, he would lose Rey again, this was all for nothing...

There was the sound of running, and then grunts and exclamations, then a loud frenzy, blows hitting, kicks connecting, grunts and shouts of pain from their attackers. Eddie wasn't sure what was happening, he just gritted his teeth and held Rey tighter, too afraid to look-

"Eddie!"

Eddie let out an involuntary yelp when someone grabbed his shoulder, throwing back an elbow, which was deflected at the last second. "Get away, holmes, you can't take him, I won't let you!"

"Hey, hey, calm down!" He was grabbed again, but this time he recognized the voice, and glanced backwards, seeing familiar blue eyes, and letting out almost a sob of relief.

"Kurt, I've never been so happy to see you before in my life, esse," he said, turning around to Kurt Angle, who was kneeling next to him. Behind him, Eddie could see Eric Young crouching to check on D'Amore, and behind them were Jeff Jarrett, Chris Sabin, Alex Shelley, Samoa Joe, AJ Styles, and ODB, who was in fact still steadily kicking the female thug in her ribs.

"I think she's down, O," AJ said, rolling his eyes a little.

"Just makin' sure, boy toy!" she shot back, with one final kick to the female's side.

"Are you okay, Eddie, what the hell is-?" Kurt's voice trailed off as he glanced down at who was in Eddie's lap, eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open. "Whuh...what...what the..."

"What is it, Kurt?" Jarrett asked, coming over, but freezing as well when he also caught sight of Rey, hugging onto Eddie, eyes squeezed closed. "Oh my God...is that...?"

"Yes, it is," D'Amore muttered, sitting up with some help from Eric. "It's a very, very, very long story, but the short version is that Rey Mysterio's alive, and all these bad people have done horrible things to him and want to do more horrible things to all of us."

"They've got the others in there..." Eddie said, getting to his feet, cradling Rey close. "They're all in trouble...The bad guys have them and they wanna hurt us, they wanna hurt us all..."

The TNA group stood in apparent shock for a moment, but then Jarrett reached out, putting his hands on Eddie's shoulders. "Okay. Okay, so your other guys are still in there and need to be rescued, right?" At Eddie's nod, he guided Eddie over to the group, glancing them over again. "Sabin, Shelley, you guys help train here, so you know the building and the layout and all pretty well, right?"

"Yeah, man," Sabin said, still staring at Rey. "We got run of the whole place."

"All right, you'll lead us in." Jarrett glanced over the group, then gestured to Joe. "Joe, I want you to take them somewhere safe and protect them until we can take care of this. Don't trust anyone that's not one of us, and if we don't make it out, you gotta take care of everything yourself so far as...whatever Eddie will need you to do. Can you handle that alone?"

"You know I can," Joe said flatly, raising an eyebrow.

"Right. Counting on you to take care of them. This is obviously a really serious-,"

"I can protect them," Joe replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"But..." Eddie glanced back towards the building, down at the beaten thugs, over at Joe, then down at Rey, obviously torn in what he should do. "I should help..."

"You've done enough, Eddie," D'Amore said, still rubbing his wounded face. "You've been through Hell in the last few days and whether or not you realize it, you're probably too exhausted to do much. Shit, you're running on nothing but adrenaline right now. Go with Joe, keep taking care of Rey, and we'll save the others and stop these scientist motherfuckers."

Eddie had tears streaming down his face already, even as he was all but snuggling Rey against his chest, starting to murmur softly. "I gotta take care of Rey...he's not doing good..."

"Right. You take Rey and everything will be okay," D'Amore said, coming over to put a hand on his arm. "You're done fighting for now, Eddie. Go be safe. We'll save your friends and we'll take care of everything from here on out. Your war is over."

Eddie nodded slowly, practically sobbing in relief and hugging Rey tightly, turning as Joe gripped his shoulder and guided him, running for a set of vehicles parked on the other side of the lot. Joe opened the door of a red compact car, and Eddie crawled into the backseat with Rey, and Joe got into the driver's seat, started the car, and peeled out of the lot, roaring the car down the street and out of sight.

"Thank God," D'Amore said, turning back to them. "Rey's safety is what was the most important, and now that's taken care of. We gotta concentrate on the others now."

"Once we rescue the guys, you better explain all this to us," AJ said, voice tinged with something between dismay and annoyance.

"You'll find out all about it, I promise. All you need to know for now..." D'Amore pointed down at the thugs on the ground. "These gray-suited ones are bastards. The ones in khaki pants are bastards. They have weapons, including guns."

"Oh shit, man," Shelley said, shaking his head. "We gotta fight people with guns and with our bare hands?"

"Hey, the WWE dudes have been doing it for days now. We just gotta do it right here, right now. We want to beat up on all of them, and save everyone else, and when all the dust is settled, what the hell, we can crow about how awesome we are."

"That's all I need to hear!" ODB said, grinning and smacking one fist into her hand. "I'm all about this party now, boys!"

"Is this everyone who's coming?" D'Amore asked, glancing around.

"Well, we sent out to everyone in TNA, most of them didn't want to get involved in any WWE stuff..." Kurt replied. "Since we didn't really know just how serious things were..."

"I understand, but then who's that?" D'Amore asked, pointing to an old, battered black truck that was pulling around and into the lot, screeching it's brakes as soon as it came into sight of them.

They turned to look, and the doors of the truck swung open. Out of the driver's side stepped a familiar face...Shannon Moore, face concerned, his hair out of it's usual mohawk and hanging loose around his shoulders. And out of the passenger's seat, looking worried, somewhat disheveled, yet as though he could bite right through nails, was Matt Hardy. Both of them were carrying large suitcases at their sides as they rushed towards the group.

"What are you doing here?" AJ asked, as the two came over to them.

"You called me," Shannon said, as though it should have been obvious. "Looking for people to come here and help WWE people with something."

"I came to find Jeff," Matt replied, voice gravelly with what sounded like barely contained fury.

"Well, he's in there, apparently," ODB said, pointing to the school. "But there's-,"

Matt brushed past her without a sound, heading for the door, and when Sabin and Shelley grabbed him to stop his advancement, he practically bared his teeth at them. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, or why you're all here, but I'm going to get my brother, damnit!"

"Well, there's a lot of trouble in there," Jarrett said. "There's a bunch of bad guys in there, from the sound of it, and we need a plan before we can just go barging in!"

"I have a plan all right," Matt growled, turning and slapping down the suitcase. "I have a plan right here."

Shannon silently set his down as well, and they both opened them, revealing smaller cases, the types of which the others recognized as soon as they were opened as well.

"Did you sneak your guns into Canada?" Kurt asked in astonishment, as Matt and Shannon each began loading the first of what looked like several handguns. "Oh my God, Matt, I know you guys from North Carolina are insane but that's a major international offense, you know how much trouble you could-,"

"Look!" Matt glared up at him. "All I know is that my little brother called me, sounding scared out of his wits, begging me to take our family into hiding, which told me there was something horribly wrong, and then Shannon gets a phone call that WWE guys are meeting here and needing TNA backup, so you know what, I don't know what's happening, I don't care, but-," Matt punctuated this sentence by slamming a clip into the gun he was currently working on "-whatever the trouble is, if I have to blow it's head clean off it's neck, then I'm goddamn gonna do it!"

"All right, Hardy!" ODB said, laughing and slapping her hip as she did. "I always knew I dug your style!"

D'Amore glanced around at the ground, over at the three thugs, chewing his lip, then shrugged slightly, crouching down. "Hand over a gun, Matt. This'll be better than just charging in there without a plan."

"We still need more of a plan than this," Jarrett replied, studying the building, arms crossed. "But I think I have one..."


	21. Chapter 21

Yes, it's back! Sorry for the long delay in update here, but...truth be told, I have had a massively awful time of it the last year+, and frankly, writing at all hasn't been happening much. I did get into a new fandom (see the Brutal Legend fic I'm writing), and over some time, tooling around with that has given me back some of my love to write, and thus helped me get to a point where I could finally pick this back up. I'm so, so so sorry for the long delay, but I promise I am going to do what I can to get this thing running and finished...I WANT to finish it, it deserves to be finished. So, you know, sorry again...and also sorry this chapter is a bit short and ends awkwardly, but hey, I'll get my rhythm back soon :)

( )

Cena kept struggling as best he could from where he was laying, but the two men on top of him were remarkably strong in their own right and had a superior position that was keeping him from getting loose. He could sense more than see Beth and Chavo on either side of him trying to work their way free as well, and Morrison was pinned down but not able to struggle, seeming to be already exhausted from a fight he and Jeff had already been through. And Jeff...well, Jeff wasn't going to be any assistance to them anytime soon at all.

The woman who had introduced herself as Dr. Bettler had moved from Jeff's side over to crouch next to Alexander's body, checking him over before standing and apparently dismissing him casually. "It's a loss, he was handy for several of our needs, but we can get others. We'll have to reinforce all our Class D personnel's mental blocks if he was able to go rogue on us this way."

"Let me go!" Beth snarled from behind him, but there was a grunt and an involuntary squeak of pain that caused a spike of new rage to rise in Cena, and he started squirming and kicking furiously again.

"Don't waste your strength, Mr. Cena," Bettler said, smiling in a strangely warm fashion. "Even if you can break their hold, you've been programmed to drop at a word. You would barely have time to get to your feet before I could stop you."

"You psycho bitch!" he growled. "This has all been your doing, all this, all the bullshit you've done, everything you've put us through, put Rey through, put all those people through, and for nothing!"

"I realize how it must seem to you, Mr. Cena, but this is not 'for nothing' as you so eloquently put it." Bettler frowned, going over to crouch next to Jeff again as he began wheezing more loudly. "Call ahead to have a recovery room prepared for him, he'll need to be in a sustainable condition if we're going to keep him useable."

"What are you talking about?" Morrison asked, managing to get his head turned enough to stare at her. "Keep him useable for what?"

Before Bettler could answer, there was a commotion out in the hall, and a few gunshots went off, but there were no shouts of pain, only a fight, and then the door flung open and Batista was shoved violently inside by several more of the prisoner guards, with Keith being pulled along behind, both of them thrown to the ground and held down just as their allies were already.

"And there are my two best workers from the Essex division," Bettler said, smiling slightly. "David, Keith, I'm truly sorry that things went this far for the two of you."

Batista glared towards her. "So you're the bitch."

"I'm afraid that is how it seems now," Bettler said, what sounded like almost genuine sorrow in her voice. "And it's true, I do wish things could be different. But unfortunately, my work is far too important and the cost is not too high."

"The justification of every psychotic bastard in history!" Chavo snarled. "Your work isn't important, isn't necessary, you're just doing it to stroke your own ego, make a name for yourself!"

"My work could be the most important breakthrough in recovery psychology that there is, my friend," Bettler responded, voice a little cool. "It could ultimately be an improvement of lifestyle for all humanity, a way for stresses and horrors of the past to become completely archaic."

"You can't keep stresses and horrors from happening by making people forget about them! And you can't make people be better by taking away all their problems!" Chavo shouted.

Bettler considered him a moment, then looked to Keith. "I see you were telling them all about what our experiment is about." She waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't make a difference, I suppose. We're going to have to wipe all this out of them anyway. So far as I'm concerned, this segment of the experiment is over."

"What?" Cena whipped his head up and stared at her. "Experiment? What experiment?"

"Your test run, of course, John," Bettler responded almost cheerfully. "You and your friends, anyway."

"Test run for what? What the hell are you talking about?"

Bettler smiled slightly. "You see, while the testing of the false memories was our primary motivation, it wasn't our only one. There were several different tests being carried out in the course of this matter." She looked to the guards again. "I want Mr. Cena and Mr. Hardy transported to our nearest available facility, and Mr. Hardy will need to be taken care of until he's recovered. The rest of them will need to be erased and reprogrammed so that the last couple of days are replaced."

"Wait, what do you mean? Why are you taking John and Jeff?" Batista asked, turning his head as much as he could to glare at her.

Bettler sighed slightly, clasping her hands together and tucking them under her chin, looking thoughtful for a moment. "We had many, many different people in our program, Dave, from a variety of cultures...policemen, military, scientists, librarians, construction workers...all over the mark. We made note of the different reactions that were gauged from our subjects, and discovered a few aberrations. The very vast majority of them reacted within the parameters we determined...no changes, no damage to the memories, nothing. But a few people...out of our three thousand subjects, perhaps 20 people...showed a resistance to the drugs and the programming. And not only that, when an acquaintance from the same walk of life was introduced in some of our cases, most of them kept their heads down and did what they were told, regardless of what it was, simply due to the human nature to give in to the orders of authority. But certain professions showed a tendency to buck against that authority...and those professions were the same people who showed the greatest resistance to our experiment. And all those professions involved combat...soldiers, police, one boxer...and one professional wrestler. We are still trying to determine why that is...and the best way to do that is to gather more people from the same areas and continue to study them."

Cena's eyes widened. "You're putting us into the program. You want to do to me and Jeff what you've been doing to Rey all this time!"

"One individual from your walk of life does not allow for a proper sampling. We want to expand the experiment to test whether or not you will all share similar reactions, so as to have more information to work with. Science has to be thorough. Even three people is not quite enough, but it will do...for the time being."

Batista snarled, trying to buck off the gray-suited men holding him down. "I'm going to gut you, you fucking bitch! I'm not going to let you get away with this!"

Bettler simply smiled, turning away and motioning to one of the khakied scientists, who brought over what looked like a large blue lunchbox, setting it down and opening it, revealing several vials of a blood red liquid. "Start working on the others," she said, gesturing. "They'll need the last few days replaced...come up with something to explain their running away from their show and where they've been. We'll have to arrange for two replacement bodies for Mr. Cena and Mr. Hardy and find some way to align both stories." She glanced back again, frowning. "Tie David into this. Unfortunately, he knows too much for us to readily erase it away."

"Fuck you, you whore!" Batista snarled. "When I get loose from this, I'm going to snap your neck!"

"Yes, I'm sure that's what you want to do." She turned away, looking out the large window along the wall, sighing. "It's such a shame, Dave. You were a very good worker, but you just can't see the bigger picture."

"Joke's on you," he shot back. "Rey's long gone from here, and you'll never find him again, and everything's going to get broken wide open!"

"We _are_ going to find him, very soon, but even if we don't...what is he going to tell people, Dave?" She looked over her shoulder at him. "He's been driven insane by your meddling in the experiment. He'll never be able to tell anyone where he's been for the last five years, what's happened to him, aside from that you and some of the others were involved. In fact..." Bettler snapped her fingers, glancing to one of her fellow scientists. "Work that into the scenario. Make some sort of evidence to make it look as though David there had ties to Rey. Even if we never get him back into the system, it can be played off as though he were simply the victim of a deranged kidnapper."

"He is the victim of a deranged kidnapper!" Chavo growled.

Bettler turned away, then whirled on the door when from down the hall, there was a sound of a scuffle and loud protests, and within a minute, the door opened, two of the grey-suited thugs dragging along D'Amore, flinging him to the ground. "We found him running around the parking lot, but no sign of the subject or the other rescuer," one of the men gruffed out.

"And I'd have gotten away with it too, if not for you meddling kids," Scott grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his head, taking in the scene around him with no small amount of trepidation, before settling his eyes on Bettler. "Well, hello there, ma'am, I think I should inform you that you're trespassing on private property."

"We'll be out of your way soon enough." She shook her head slightly. "Where is Rey? I know you were involved in trying to sneak him out of here."

"I'm not sure, you know?" Scott said, shrugging a shoulder. "I feel like I would have remembered, if a couple of nutheads hadn't bashed me in the skull on the way here, but eh, what are you gonna do, you know?"

"Drug him," she said without hesitation, nodding to the man with the blood red vials. "We'll get the truth out of him that way."

"Hey, whoa, come on, winners don't do drugs, am I right?" Scott got to his feet, grinning a bit sheepishly. "Chill out now, lady, we can talk about this."

"Then talk."

"Okay...well...see...thing is...Eddie and Rey are long gone, ma'am. Eddie popped a car and they bolted. They're probably halfway to Kalamazoo by now. I'm actually just stalling for time to let the two of them get further away. This is going to sound racist, but considering all the other retardedly amazing schemes he can pull off, I'm going to bet that Eddie knows how to sneak across a border and get back to the States, annnnnd you're not gonna be able to find him if he doesn't want you to. Soooo, you're all kind of fucked so far as that goes."

"Then you're officially useless to me." She waved a hand. "Wipe him with the rest."

"Hey, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"And why wouldn't you?"

"Because of the squad of highly trained ninja assassins crawling through the roof right now and waiting to drop in and beat the hell out of all of you the second I say the magic word."

Cena and Beth managed to meet each other's eyes at this point, trading incredulous looks. Scott hadn't been nearly this put together at all since they'd arrived, and now he was not only blatantly insulting the mad doctor, but he wasn't even breaking a sweat to do it. What was he doing?

Bettler gave Scott a look of pure withering contempt. "I'm beginning to understand why some of the others in the program didn't want wrestler involvement. I think you all have more severe issues than even my abilities could repair."

"Aw, you're right, I'm...I'm just messing with you." He grinned. "They aren't ninjas at all."


End file.
